Smartyfair
And now that snow o'erlays the thatch, Each starlit eve within The door she waits, I raise the latch, And kiss her lifted chin; Nor do I think we've blushed again, For Love hath made but one of twain.
William Bell Scott
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95% sureThese words were traced back to where they first appeared. That source is listed below.
What turned up
LOVE'S CALENDAR. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/2620/pg2620-images.html

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