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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?]