“O, that a glove I to that hand were prest,
“On which reclin’d, that lovely cheek might rest!”
’Twas thus the youth his amorous wish preferr’d,
A glove--so cold a suit could ne’er be heard;
Ah, surely _bosom friends_ were then unknown,
That teach the breast a mutual warmth to own.
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_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._
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