THINE IS MY HEART. My life's supremest pleasure Within those sweet and gentle eyes, Ah! wert thou mine, mine only, An Eden earth would be! The hours would calmly glide away— THINE IS MY HEART. On every budding tree that bends above, 209 That round my pathway choicest fragrance throws, I'll trace in words that shall endure forever, Some meadow-lark I'll lure and him caress; To every zephyr I my passion tell; The murmuring streamlet knows my fancy well Thy name I whisper with a wild delight; Thou art my dearest theme at morn, at night; The current of my love shall alter never; THE HOUR HAS COME. The hour has come to part us; I feel my spirit fleeing To brighter realms above. If from this world when severed, With tears my loss deplore, When we shall part no more. THE WISH. THY NAME I MURMUR SOFTLY. Thy name I murmur softly, When night winds sigh, To listening ears I breathe not My lips betray, reveal not, 211 THE WISH. I wish I were a moonbeam pale, Adown her fair cheek playing; I'd read in her eyes with glance unbidden, Till morning's envious gleam chas'd me away. I wish I were a nightingale, My love in sweet tones sighing, I'd sing the tend'rest lay to her, When softly day was breaking; I'd haunt her light footsteps like some shadow, In forest deep or flowing meadow; In praise of her I'd wake the grove, And every note should tell her how I love. I wish I were a beauteous rose, In fragrance breathing love's warm sigh, AN OLD LOVE DITTY. To see my life's existence, One morn I fain would ride; "Behold he gallops here, To soothe, console, and cheer!" Trot, trot, trot, trot, my pony, Trot, trot, trot, trot, t'ward my dear. AN OLD LOVE DITTY. I loos'd me from the bridle, And sprang into her arms; Nor lip nor speech were idle, Saluting then her charms. To laugh in playful jeer, "Sweet love, why wait you here?" Trot, trot, trot, trot, my pony, Trot, trot, bye and bye ne'er fear. My restive nag I bound me, O'er all her garden gear, She bloomed without compeer. Trot, trot, trot, trot, my pony, Trot, trot, trot, trot, softly near. In loving fashion seated, On daisy jewell'd grass, Our songs and sighs repeated, "A crystal tear doth glass Thine eyelid, pretty lass!" Trot, trot, trot, trot, my pony, Trot, trot, trot, trot, home alas! 213 |