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within her breast.
Gently!</br>
She is sleeping,</br>
She has breathed her last,</br>
Gently!</br>
While you're weeping</br>
She to heaven has pass'd.</br>

And here are four lines of poetry that seem so truthful that I cannot hep transcribing them. The fair authoress has been walking in one of the large cemeteries where a particular spot is laid off for the burial of infants, and thinking o'er these Little Graves, she says:

There's