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"'Where's Dolly?' I no answer made;
For she dropped like a stone
Down through the deep sea; and it closed:
The little thing was gone!
'Where's Doll?' three times; then Dick loosed hold,
And left me there alone.
* * * * *
"It's five-and-forty year since then,"
Muttered the boatman grey,
And drew his rough hand o'er his eyes,
And stared across the bay;
"Just five-and-forty year," and not
Another word did say.
"But Dolly?" ask the children all,
As they about him stand.
"Poor Doll! she floated back next tide
With sea-weed in her hand.
She's buried o'er that hill you see,
In a churchyard on land.
"But where Dick lies, God knows! He'll find
Our Dick at Judgment-day."
The boatman fell to mending nets,
The boys ran off to play;
And the sun shone and the waves danced
In quiet Swanage Bay.


BALLAD OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.
BY GEORGE HENRY BOKER.

"O, whither sail you, SIR JOHN FRANKLIN?"
Cried a whaler in Baffin's Bay.


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