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A thunderstorm in town
She wore a new 'terra-cotta' dress,
And we stayed, because of the pelting storm,
Within the hansom's dry recess,
Though the horse had stopped; yea motionless
We sat on, snug and warm.
Then the downpur ceased, to my sharp sad pain
And the glass that had screend our forms before
Flew up, and out she sprang to her door:
I should have kissed her if the rain
Had lasted a minute more