You grew a lovely roseate maiden,
And still our early love was strong;
Still with no care our days were laden,
They glided joyously along;
And I did love you very dearly,
How dearly words want power to show;
I thought your heart was touch'd as nearly;
But that was fifty years ago.
Then other lovers came around you,
Your beauty grew from year to year,
And many a splendid circle found you
The centre of its glimmering sphere.
I saw you then, first vows forsaking,
On rank and wealth your hand bestow;
O, then I thought my heart was breaking!--
But that was forty years ago.
And I lived on, to wed another:
No cause she gave me to repine;
And when I heard you were a mother,
I did not wish the children mine.
My own young flock, in fair progression,
Made up a pleasant Christmas row:
My joy in them was past expression;
But that was thirty years ago.
You grew a matron plump and comely,
You dwelt in fashion's brightest blaze;
My earthly lot was far more homely;
But I too had my festal days.
No merrier eyes have ever glisten'd
Around the hearth-stone's wintry glow,
Than when my youngest child was christen'd;
But that was twenty years ago.
Time pass'd. My eldest girl was married,
And I am now a grandsire gray;
One pet of four years old I've carried
Among the wild-flower'd meads to play.
In our old fields of childish pleasure,
Where now, as then, the cowslips blow,
She fills her basket's ample measure;
And that is not ten years ago.
But though first love's impassion'd blindness
Has pass'd away in colder light,
I still have thought of you with kindness,
And shall do, till our last good-night.
The ever-rolling silent hours
Will bring a time we shall not know,
When our young days of gathering flowers
Will be an hundred years ago.
Похожие новости:
Nor board nor garner
Though th error of
199 The Dream DEAR
O see ye not
Thus ye teach us
The Bonnie House o
1709 1784 450 One
There let Hymen oft
She said she saw
My Captain does not
Glad pale Cynthian wine
Shall they not make
He I counsel you
Yet do thou glory
But she breathed of
104 Fawnia AH were
Mount we unto the
320 To Cyriack Skinner
So let me lie
From Omar Khayyam I
The ship hath been
Good husband counsel take
With them came that
O Son of Man
Now tis our boast
529 Perfect Woman SHE
chimneys cheminees chimney screens
Why so More we
But now I find
The definition if he
680 Consolation ALL are
Makyne the nicht is
Yet not the less
There she sees the
No War or Battails
We climb d on
Glorious the sun in
O how I long
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM 1824 1889
But your reason s
All that in woman
The squirrel gloats on
Now fades the glimmering
Be she sullen I
And in the warm
The Choice ME so
And cheerfully at sea
Tis vain to say
Robin thou reivis me
She I shall as
|
