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To Miss Beck
There are some spirits [fifty? fitly?] strung,
To echo back the tones of mind,
Among those fair & chosen ones
I dare dear Beck to number mine.
Angels attend thee may their wings
Fan every shadow from thy brow
For only good and loving things
Should wait on one so pure as thou.
And when thy prayers are pure & strong
As they in thy best hours can be,
O! then amid the cherished throng
I'll come and pray for thee.
Ever thy true friend,
Katy M.
Hillsboro 186[1?]