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I did not kiss you, Rosie Nettle,
though fancies spun us like a bottle,
and, two by two, they tried our mettle
in a game of giggles and tittle-tattle.
At the dark passage we stayed a little,
but I did not kiss you, Rosie Nettle,
too new to labyrinthine perils:
webs of your hair, eyes like candles.