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He frowns because he says I love him not
I wish he would believe each honest word
He scowls and says I act in ways absurd
And all in vain I say I care a lot.
A book on psychology I think I'll swot
And there I'll find the wanted magic herb
That'll make the things I say seem not unheard.
I hope my scheme will work on that clot
For I lie in bed bewildered and perplexed
By night, sad that he thinks I stint my love.
Silent, silent, I lie, as the mourning dove,
Confused at the tangled state of the opposite sex.
From my book I hope benefits to reap,
Or woe is me and what to do but weep!
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