God pity me, I'd most forgot Are somewhere on the sea, Who hear the breakin' bar an' think O' Jerry home an’—me. Hiram Rich [ ? ] "DON'T BE SORROWFUL, DARLING" O DON'T be sorrowful, darling! 'Tis rainy weather, my darling; We are old folks now, my darling, But taking the year all round, my dear, We have had our May, my darling, And our roses long ago; And the time of the year is coming, my dear, But God is God, my darling, Of the night as well as the day; And we feel and know that we can go Wherever He leads the way. A God of the night, my darling, Of the night of death so grim; The gate that leads out of life, good wife, Is the gate that leads to Him. Rembrandt Peale [1778-1860] Winifreda 1187 WINIFREDA AWAY! let naught to love displeasing, What though no grants of royal donors With pompous titles grace our blood, Our name, while virtue thus we tender, What though, from fortune's lavish bounty, Still shall each kind returning season And that's the only life to live. Through youth and age, in love excelling, How should I love the pretty creatures, And when with envy time transported Shall think to rob us of our joys, You'll in your girls again be courted, And I'll go wooing in my boys. Unknown AN OLD MAN'S IDYL By the waters of Life we sat together, When skies were purple and breath was praise, When the heart kept tune to the carol of birds, And the birds kept tune to the songs which ran Through shimmer of flowers on grassy swards, And trees with voices æolian. By the rivers of Life we walked together, And lighter than any linnet's feather A sound that seemed like a marriage chime. In the gardens of Life we strayed together, And up in the air a sense of wings In the meadows of Life we strayed together, And under the benison of the Father Our hearts, like the lambs, skipped to and fro; And the cowslip, hearing our low replies, Broidered fairer the emerald banks, And glad tears shone in the daisy's eyes, And the timid violet glistened thanks. Who was with us, and what was round us, Neither myself nor my darling guessed; Only we knew that something crowned us Out from the heavens with crowns of rest; The Poet's Song to His Wife Only we knew that something bright Lingered lovingly where we stood, Oh, the riches Love doth inherit! Laugh at the footsteps of decay. Harms of the world have come unto us, And we hear the tread of the years move by, But my darling does not fear to die, So we sit by our household fires together, Then it was balmy, sunny weather, And now the valleys are laid in snow; Icicles hang from the slippery eaves, The wind blows cold,-'tis growing late; Well, well! we have garnered all our sheaves, I and my darling, and we wait. 1189 Richard Realf [1834-1878] THE POET'S SONG TO HIS WIFE How many summers, love, Have I been thine? How many days, thou dove, Hast thou been mine? |