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I love thee, more than the meadow where the grass is so still
More than the mulberries on the hill
More than the buds on a mayapple tree, I love thee

Arms have I, strong as the oak, for this occasion
Lips have I, to kiss thee sweet, in friendly persuasion

Thee is mine, though I don’t know many words of praise
Thee pleasures me in a hundred ways
I have on my bonnet, my cape, and my gloves
And I’ll go with thee, for thee I love

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