Yorkshire Lyrics Part 52

I shall never forget the day, Annie, When I bid thee a fond adieu; With a careless good bye I left thee, For my cares and my fears were few.

True that thine eyes seemed brightest;-- True that none had so fair a brow,-- I _thought_ that I loved thee then, Annie, But I _knew_ that I love thee now.

I had neither wealth nor beauty, Whilst thou owned of both a share, I bad only a honest purpose And the courage the Fates to dare.

To all others my heart preferred thee, And 'twas hard to part I know; For I _thought_ that I loved thee then, Annie, But I _know_ that I love thee now.

Oh! what would I give to-night, love, Could I clasp thee once again, To my heart that is aching with loving,-- To my heart where my love does reign.

Could I hear thy voice making music, So gentle, so sweet and so low, I _thought_ that I loved thee then, Annie, But I _know_ that I love thee now.

I have won me wealth and honour,-- I have earned a worldly regard, But alas they afford me no pleasure, Nor lighten my lot so hard.

Oh come for my bosom yearneth, All its burden of love to bestow,-- Once I _thought_ that I really loved thee, But I _know_ that I love thee now.

Canst thou ever forgive me the folly, Of failing to capture the prize, Of thy maiden heart, trustful and loving, That shone thro' thy tear bedimmed eyes.

But I knew not until we had parted, How fiercely love's embers could glow; Or how _truly_ I loved thee then, Annie, Or how _madly_ I'd love thee now.

Bachelors Quest.

She may be dark or may be fair, If beauty she possesses; But she must have abundant hair-- I doat on flowing tresses.

Her skin must be clear, soft and white Her cheeks with health's tints glowing, Her eyes beam with a liquid light,-- Red lips her white teeth showing.

She must be graceful as a fawn, With bosom gently swelling, Her presence fresh as early dawn,-- A heart for love to dwell in.

She must be trusting, yet aware That flatterer's honey'd phrases Are often but a wily snare, To catch her in love's mazes.

Accomplishments she must possess, These make life worth the having; And taste, especially in dress Yet still inclined to saving.

In cookery she must excel, To this there's no exception, And serve a frugal meal as well As manage a reception.

Untidyness she must abhor, In every household matter; And resolutely close the door To any gossip's chatter.

She must love children, for a home Ne'er seems like home without 'em.

And women seldom care to roam, Who love their babes about 'em, Should she have wealth, she must not boast Or tell of what she brought me; Content that I should rule the roost,-- (That's what my father taught me.) If I can find some anxious maid Who all these charms possesses, I shall be tempted, I'm afraid, To pay her my addresses.

Waiting at the Gate.

Draw closer to my side to-night, Dear wife, give me thy hand, My heart is sad with memories Which thou canst understand, Its twenty years this very day, I know thou minds it well, Since o'er our happy wedded life The heaviest trouble fell.

We stood beside the little cot, But not a word we said; With breaking hearts we learned, alas, Our little Claude was dead, He was the last child born to us, The loveliest,--the best, I sometimes fear we loved him more Than any of the rest.

We tried to say "Thy will be done,"

We strove to be resigned; But all in vain, our loss had left Too deep a wound behind.

I saw the tears roll down thy cheek, And shared thy misery, But could not speak a soothing word, I could but grieve with thee.

He looked so calm, so sweet, so fair Why should we stand and weep?

Death had but paused a moment there, And put our pet to sleep.

The weary hours crept sadly on, Until the burial day; Then in the deep, cold, gravel grave, We saw him laid away.

His little bed was taen apart, His toys put out of sight; His brother and his sister soon Grew gay again and bright.

But we, dear wife, we ne'er threw off, The sorrow o'er us cast; And even yet, at times, we grieve, Though twenty years have pa.s.sed.

We know he's in a better land, A heaven where all is bliss; Nor would we try if we'd the power To bring him back to this.

Draw closer to my side, dear wife, And wipe away that tear, Heaven does not seem so far away, I seem to feel him near.

He'll come no more with us to dwell, For our life's lamp burns dim; But He who doeth all things well, Will draw us up to Him.

Come closer, wife, let us not part, We have not long to wait; A something whispers to my heart, "Claude's waiting at the Gate."

Love.

Love--love--love--love,-- A tiny hand in a tiny glove; A witching smile that means,--well,--well, Whether little or much its hard to tell.

A tiny foot and a springy tread, Short curls running riot all over her head; A waist that invites a fond embrace, Yet by modesty girt seems a holy place; Not a place where an arm should be idly thrown, But should gently rest, as would rest my own.

An angel whose wings are but hid from view, Whose charms are many and faults so few, As near perfection as mortal can be, Is the one that I love and that loves but me.

They tell me that love is blind,--.oh, no!

They can never convince a lover so; Love cannot be blind for it sees much more, Then others have ever discovered before.

Oh, the restless night with its pleasing dreams, Sweet visions through which her beauty beams; The pleasant pains that find vent in sighs,-- And the hopes of a earthly paradise Where we shall dwell and heart to heart In unison beat. Of the world a part Yet so full of our love for each other that we Shall sail all alone on life's troublesome sea, In a charmed course, of perpetual calm, Away from all danger, sccure from harm.

Ah, yes,--such is love to the maiden and youth, That have implicit trust in each others truth;-- Such love was mine, but alas, alas!

The things I had hoped for ne'er came to pa.s.s.

But I thank the star of my destiny, That guided a true plain woman to me; That amid the bustle and worry and strife, Has proved a good mother and faithful wife, Though the fates did not grant me an angel to wed, They gave me a woman for helpmate instead.

Do your Best and Leave the Rest.

As through life you journey onward Many a hill you'll have to climb; Many a rough and dang'rous pathway, You'll encounter time and time.

Now and then a gleam of sunshine, Will bring hope to cheer your breast; Then press onward,--ever trusting,-- Do your best and leave the rest.

Though your progress may be hindered, By false friends or bitter foes; And the goal for which you're striving, Seems so far away,--who knows?

You may yet have strength to reach it, E'er the sun sinks in the west; Ever striving,--still undaunted;-- Do your best and leave the rest.

If you fail, as thousands must do, You will still have cause for pride; You will have advanced much further, Than if you had never tried.

Never falter, but remember, Life is not a foolish jest; You all are in the fight to win it;-- Do your best and leave the rest.

If at last your strength shall fail you, And your struggles have proved vain; There is One who will sustain you;-- Soothe your sorrow,--ease your pain, He has seen your earnest striving, And your efforts shall be blest; For He knows, that you, though failing, Did your best,--He'll do the rest.

To my Daughter on her Birthday.

Darling child, to thee I owe, More than others here will know; Thou hast cheered my weary days, With thy coy and winsome ways.

When my heart has been most sad, Smile of thine has made me glad; In return, I wish for thee, Health and sweet felicity.

May thy future days be blest, With all things the world deems best.

If perchance the day should come, Thou does leave thy childhood's home; Bound by earth's most sacred ties, With responsibilities, In another's life to share, Wedded joys and worldly care; May thy partner worthy prove,-- Richest in thy constant love.

Strong in faith and honour, just,-- With brave heart on which to trust.

One, to whom when troubles come, And the days grow burdensome, Thou canst fly, with confidence In his love's plenipotence.

And if when some years have flown, Sons and daughters of your own Bless your union, may they be Wellsprings of pure joy to thee.