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To Miss E. Clinedinst There be none of Beauty's daughters With a magic like thee; And like music on the waters is thy sweet voice to me: When as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean's pausing The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lull'ed winds seem dreaming, But tis done - all words are idle - Words from me are vainer still But the thoughts we cannot bridle Force their way with out the will -- Fare the[e] well: -- thus disunited, Torn from evry [sic] nearer tie, , Scar'd in heart, and love, and blighted More than this I scarce can die. Amicus October 17,1861