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Rhymes from the Russian

by John Pollen

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Anacreontic

  We know the steed of mettle
  By the breed-marks branded on it;
We know the haughty Highlander
  By his plumed and towering bonnet;
And I know the happy lovers
  By the love-light in their eyes,
Where, its tale of joyance telling,
  The languid flame doth rise.

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