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[writing for the Richmond Dispatch.]
he does not wear the gray
by Rema Mayor.

‘ They say I ought to love him,
That he is very good;
And if he's all they say he it,
I'm sure I wish I could,
His lipt are like Cupid's bow--
Sweet smiles around them play--
But then he has one fault; you know
He does not wear the gray

He's very charitable, too.
And from his golden store
His gone one hand deals willingly
Gifts to the needy poor,
They say that for his welfare
There are thousands now who pray--
Oh met it's such a pity
He will not wear the gray.

He's very rich and handsome--
among the girls--
He says he loves my sparkling eyes,
And
My smile would make his home more bright
And cheer wintry day;
if
He only wear the gray.

We straved beneath the moonlit sky,
His hand was clasping mine;
He said while lingering by my side
Life seemed almost divine.
He asked me then to be his bride;
I only answered, Nay.
Hir, I'll never wed with one
Who does not wear the gray."

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