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A very West-of-Wessex girl,
  As blithe as blithe could be,
  Was once well-known to me,
And she would laud her native town,
  And hope and hope that we
Might sometime study up and down
  Its charms in company.
But never I squired my Wessex girl
  In jaunts to Hoe or street
  When hearts were high in beat,
Nor saw her in the marbled ways
  Where market-people meet
That in her bounding early days
  Were friendly with her feet.
Yet now my West-of-Wessex girl,
  When midnight hammers slow
  From Andrew’s, blow by blow,
As phantom draws me by the hand
  To the place - Plymouth Hoe -
Where side by side in life, as planned,
  We never were to go!