Evening by evening Among the Brookside rushes, Laura bow'd her head to hear, Lizzie veil'd her blushes: Crouching close together In the cooling weather, With clasping arms and cautioning lips, With tingling cheeks and fingertips. "lie close," Laura said, Pricking up her golden head: "We must not look at Goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: who knows upon the soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?" "Come buy," call the Goblins Hobbling down the glen

— Christina Rossetti

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