Yorkshire Lyrics Part 58

Last eve the sun went down Like a globe of glorious fire; Into a sea of gold I watched the orb expire.

It seemed the fitting end For the brightness it had shed, And the cloudlets he had kissed Long lingered over head.

All vegetation drooped, As if with pleasure faint: The lily closed its cup To guard 'gainst storm and taint.

The cool refreshing dew Fell softly to the earth, All lovely things to cheer, And call more beauties forth.

And as I sat and thought On Nature's wond'rous plan, I felt with some regret, How small a thing is man.

However bright he be, His efforts are confined, Yet maybe, if he will, Leave some rich fruits behind.

The sun that kissed the flowers, And made the earth look gay, Was culling, through the hours, Rich treasures on his way.

And when the day was dead, His stored up riches fell, And to the moon arose Incense from hill and dell.

And when our span of life Is ended, will it be Through such a glorious death We greet Eternity?

What have we said or done In all the long years pa.s.sed!

And may not such as me, Forgotten, die at last?

Poetry and Prose.

Do you remember the wood, love, That skirted the meadow so green; Where the cooing was heard of the stock-dove, And the sunlight just glinted between.

The trees, that with branches entwining Made shade, where we wandered in bliss, And our eyes with true love-light were shining,-- When you gave me the first loving kiss?

The ferns grew tall, graceful and fair, But none were so graceful as you; Wild flow'rs in profusion were there, But your eyes were a lovelier blue; And the tint on your cheek shamed the rose, And your brow as the lily was white, And your curls, bright as gold, when it glows, In the crucible, liquid and bright.

And do you remember the stile, Where so cosily sitting at eve, Breathing forth ardent love-vows the while, We were only too glad to believe?

And the castles we built in the air, Oh! what glorious structures were they!

No temple all earth was so fair,-- But alas! they all vanished away.

And do you remember the time, When cruel fate forced us apart, When with resignation sublime We obeyed, though with pain in each heart.

Then years dragged their wearisome round, And we ne'er again met as of yore,-- But we did meet at last and we found, Things were not as they had been before.

You'd a child on your rough sunburned arm, And your husband had one on his knee, And I had my own little swarm, For I was the father of three.

And I know we both thought of the days When love and romance filled each heart, Now, we both have our children to raise,-- You're washing,--I'm driving a cart.

Years Ago.

Annie I dreamed a strange dream last night, At my bedside, I dreamed, you stood clad in white; Your dark curly hair 'round your snow-white brow,-- (Are those locks as raven and curly now?) And those rosebud lips, which in days lang syne, I have kissed and blest, because they were mine.

And thine eyes soft light, Shone as mellow and bright, As it did years ago,-- Years ago.

And I fancy I heard the soft soothing sound Of thy voice, that sweet melody breathed all around, Whilst enraptured I gazed, and once more the sweet smile, Made sunshine, my sorrowing heart to beguile, And thy milkwhite hands stroked my heated brow;-- (Oh! what would I give could I feel them now!) But alas! Woe is me!

No more can it be, As it was years ago,-- Years ago.

I awoke with a gnawing pain at my heart, The vision had vanished,--but oh, the smart Of the wound, which no time can ever heal, Was a torment, which only lost souls can feel.

Yet in spite of the pain, the woe, the despair, I dote, as I look on a lock of dark hair, That I culled from the head, Of the loveliest maid; Many long years ago,-- Years ago.

Will fate ever bring us together again?

Will my heart never know a surcease from pain?

Are the dark locks I worshipped, now mingled with grey?

Has Time stolen brightness and beauty away?

I care not,--for years have but made thee more dear; But my longing is vain, Thou wilt ne'er come again.

Lost,--lost,--years ago,-- Years ago.

Somebody's.

Oh, isn't it nice to be somebody's?-- Somebody's darling and pet, To be shrined in the heart of a dear one, Whose absence fills soul with regret?

To be dreamed of, and longed for, and courted, As the Queen whom his heart holds in thrall,-- As the one--the great one, priceless jewel, That outweighs and outvalues them all?

Oh,--I'd rather my head should be resting, On the breast of the man that I love; And my hand in his strong grasp be nestling, And bask in the light of his love:-- I would rather,--far rather, my darling Should be loving, and faithful, and brave, Than be t.i.tled, and wealthy, and fickle;-- E'en though poverty held him a slave.

Oh, my heart yearns for one that is n.o.ble,-- In mind, not in riches or birth, Who would love me, and value my love too, Then my lot would be heaven on earth.

But where, alas, where shall I find him?

This man, that my heart longs for so?

This idol I picture and dream of,-- Does he live? I'm inclined to say, no.

He is merely a fanciful hero, That my heart has pictured so fair: I must stoop from my realm of wild fancy, And take what may fall to my share.

Some plain, honest, working mechanic, May be the prize I may call mine, But if shaped like a man he'll be better, Nor be left lonely, without Valentine.

Claude.

I named him Claude, 'twas a strange conceit, 'Twas a name that no relatives ever bore; Yet there lingered around it a mem'ry sweet, Of a face and a voice I miss evermore.

I was pacing the deck of a captive ship, That was straining its cables to get away, From the parched up town, and its crowded slip, To its home on the wave and its life in the spray.

When I saw the beautiful, sorrowful dame,-- And never, oh, never, shall I forget The sweet chord struck as she spoke the name, That thrilled through my being and lingers yet.

'Twas a winsome woman with raven hair, And a lovely face, and a beaming eye, With a smile that of joy and sorrow had share, And her form had the charms for which sculptors vie.

I never had seen such a lovely hand, As the one that she pressed to her snowy brow; And her parted lips, showed a glistening band, Of pearly teeth in an even row.

A fragrant scent like a rose's breath, Hung round her and seemed of herself a part, And a bouquet of lillies as pale as death, Drooped sadly above her beating heart.

She only uttered the one word, "Claude,"

But oh! 'twas so touchingly, sweetly said;-- A volume of grief expressed in a word, As she stedfastly gazed through the void overhead.

Then I noticed the sombre garments she wore, And I knew the grim reaper had gathered her flower 'Twas the sense of the heart-crushing sorrow she bore, Invested that name with such marvellous power.

She went ash.o.r.e, and we sailed away, 'Twas the first and the only time ever we met, But my memory limns her as lovely to-day, As she was on that day I can never forget.