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TROTHPLIGHT.
TROTHPLIGHT.
[For the Golden Wedding of a Husband thirty-seven years blind.]
BROUGHT her home, my bonny bride, Just fifty years ago;
Her eyes were bright,
Her step was light,
Her voice was sweet and low.
In April was our wedding-day,—
The maiden month, you know,
Of tears and smiles,
And wilful wiles,
And flowers that spring from snow.
The maiden month, you know,
Of tears and smiles,
And wilful wiles,
And flowers that spring from snow.
