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And oft we've talk'd in tenderest tone Of Love -- but [[underline]] ne'er of [[/underline]] love for her.-- Yet sometimes when her gentle art To lull my cares, some means hath found So much her freindship eas'd its smart I've thought [[underline]] her love [[/underline]] might cure my wound. But scarce my mind the wish could frame Before I loath'd the selfish thought Which aim'd to plunge her soul in shame Who balm to [[underline]] mine, had [[/underline]] often brought [[underline]] Freind! [[/underline]] let these lines thy doubts remove For Laura's breast, is virtue's shrine, It felt for me a sister's love And found a [[underline]] Brothers heart in mine. [[/underline]]