Yorkshire Lyrics Part 57

Oh, for a stroll when opening day Silvers the dew, Kissing the buds, whilst zephyrs play As though they knew Their gentle breath was needed, just to shake Your slumbering beauties, and to bid you wake.

Far from the moilding town and trade, How sweet to spend An hour amid the misty glade, And find a friend In every tiny blossom, and to lie, And dream of Him whose love can never die.

Ye are Gael's messengers, sent here To make us glad; Mute, and yet eloquent, to cheer The heart that's sad; To turn our thoughts from sordid earthly gains, To that bright home where peace for ever reigns.

How dare we murmur, when around On every side, Such proofs of His great love abound, O'er the world wide?

Faith cannot die within these hearts of ours, If we but learn the lessons of the flowers.

Thanks to the one whose kindly heart Was moved to send This gift, when we were far apart, To cheer a friend.

Sweet meditation now my mind employs; A pleasure pure, and one which never cloys.

November's Here.

Dullest month of all the year,-- Suicidal atmosphere, Everything is dark and drear, Filling nervous minds with fear, Skies are seldom ever clear, Fogs are ever hov'ring near,-- 'Tis a heavy load to bear.

Were it not that life is dear, We should wish to disappear, For it puts us out of gear.

But in vain we shed the tear, We must still cling to the rear Of the year that now is near.

Though our eyes begin to blear, With fogs thick enough to shear, And we feel inclined to swear, At the month that comes to smear All things lovely, all things dear; We must bear and yet forbear.

But some thoughts our spirits cheer, Christmas time will soon be here, Then at thee we'll scoff and jeer, Smoke our pipes and drink our beer,-- Sit until brave chanticleer Tells us that the morn is here.

Do thy worst, November drear!

We can stand it, never fear,-- Christmas time will soon be here.

Mary.

My Mary's as sweet as the flowers that grow, By the side of the brooklet that runs near her cot; Her brow is as fair as the fresh fallen snow, And the gleam of her smile can be never forgot.

Her figure is lithe and as graceful I ween As was Venus when Paris awarded the prize, She's the wiles of a fairy,--the step of a queen, And the light of true love's in her bonny brown eyes.

To see was to love her,--to love was to mourn,-- For her heart was as fickle as April days When you'd given her all and asked some return, You got but a taste of her false winsome ways.

You never could tell, though you knew her so well, That her sweet fascinations were nothing but lies, Like a fool you loved on when of hope there was none And your heart sought relief in her bonny brown eyes.

Yet 'tis sad to relate, though unhappy my fate, I would sacrifice all that on earth I hold dear, If she would but consent to be true, and content, With the heart that is faithful when distant or near.

Through pleasure and pain we together again, May never commingle our smiles and our sighs, But when sleeping or waking, I struggle in vain, To forget the sweet maid with the bonny brown eyes.

Oh, Mary, my love! with the coo of the dove, I would woo thee to win thee, and ever to live, Where thy bright loving face and thy figure of grace, Could surround me with joys that none other can give.

Oh, say but a word, and I'll fly like a bird, To the one whom my heart will beat for till it dies, Bid me come to my home, bid me come, bid me come, And bask in the light of thy bonny brown eyes.

When Cora Died.

Bells ring out a joyful sound, Old and young alike seem gay; One more year has gone its round, Again we greet a New Year's Day.

Whilst to some they tell of cheer, Other hearts may grief betide, For 'twas in the glad New Year When our darling Cora died.

Like a snowdrop, pure and fair, She had blossomed in our home; Her we nursed with tender care, Lest Death's blighting frost should come.

And we prayed to keep her here, But our pleading was denied;-- Early in the glad New Year, Little darling Cora died.

Death had taken some before, Some from whom 'twas hard to part; And their voices now no more, Come to cheer the longing heart.

In that one frail blossom dear, Centered all our hope and pride; Alas! Then came the sad New Year, When our darling Cora died.

Since that time the pealing bells Wake sad echoes in the heart; And the grief that in us dwells Makes the tears unbidden start.

Though they ring so loud and clear, Flinging gladness far and wide, They to me recall the year, When our darling Cora died.

The Violet.

Little simple violet, Glittering with dewy wet, Hidden by protecting gra.s.s All unheeded we should pa.s.s Were it not the rich perfume, Leads us on to find the bloom Which so modestly does dwell, Sweetly scenting all the dell.

Simple little violet;-- Lessons I shall ne'er forget By thy modest mien were taught,-- Rich in peace,--with wisdom fraught.

Oft I've laid me down to rest, With thy blossoms on my breast; Screen'd from noontide's sunny flood, By some monarch of the wood.

I have thought and dreamed of thee, Clad in such simplicity; Yet so rich in fragrance sweet, That exhales from thy retreat; And I've seen the gaudy flower Blest alone with beauty's dower;-- Have looked,--admired,--then bid them go,-- Violet,--I love thee so.

Rival, thou hast none to fear, For to me thou art most dear;-- b.u.t.tercups and daisies vie, 'With thy charms to please the eye, Roses red and lillies white, All enchanting to the sight; Yield me joys sincere, but yet Thou'rt my favorite,--Violet.

Repentant.

Oh lend me thy hand in the darkness, Lead me once more to the light, Bear with my folly and weakness, Point me the way to do right.

Long have I groped in the shadow Of error, temptation and doubt, In the maze I've strayed hither and thither, Vainly seeking to find a way out.

When I grasp thy firm hand in the darkness, Courage takes place of my fear; No more do I shudder and tremble, When I know that my loved one is near.

From sorrow and trouble, oh, lead me;-- From dangers that sorely affright, Till at last every terror shall leave me, And I rest in thine own loving light.

Rest! Aye, rest! If I have thy forgiveness, If thy strong arm about me is twined; Let the past, like a horrible vision, Be for ever cast out of thy mind.

When I wilfully all my vows slighted, And sought joy in a glittering sin, I found but two lives that were blighted, Two hearts filled with ruin within.

Oh, take me again to thy bosom, With a kiss, tho' it be on my brow; And forgive one who wayward and sinful, Ne'er knew how she loved thee till now.

And keep me away from the darkness, Let thy hand lead me on evermore, Let me cling to thee, bless thee, and love thee, As no loved one was e'er loved before.

Sunset.