The Home Book of Verse
Chapter 219 : The dames of France are fond and free, And Flemish lips are willing, And soft the maid

The dames of France are fond and free, And Flemish lips are willing, And soft the maids of Italy, And Spanish eyes are thrilling; Still, though I bask beneath their smile, Their charms fail to bind me, And my heart falls back to Erin's Isle, To the girl I left behind me.

For she's as fair as Shannon's side, And purer than its water, But she refused to be my bride Though many a year I sought her; Yet, since to France I sailed away, Her letters oft remind me That I promised never to gainsay The girl I left behind me.

She says, "My own dear love, come home, My friends are rich and many, Or else abroad with you I'll roam, A soldier stout as any; If you'll not come, nor let me go, I'll think you have resigned me,"-- My heart nigh broke when I answered "No,"

To the girl I left behind me.

For never shall my true love brave A life of war and toiling, And never as a skulking slave I'll tread my native soil on; But, were it free or to be freed, The battle's close would find me To Ireland bound, nor message need From the girl I left behind me.

Unknown

"WHEN WE ARE PARTED"

When we are parted let me lie In some far corner of thy heart, Silent, and from the world apart, Like a forgotten melody: Forgotten of the world beside, Cherished by one, and one alone, For some loved memory of its own; So let me in thy heart abide When we are parted.

When we are parted, keep for me The sacred stillness of the night; That hour, sweet Love, is mine by right; Let others claim the day of thee!

The cold world sleeping at our feet, My spirit shall discourse with thine;-- When stars upon thy pillow s.h.i.+ne, At thy heart's door I stand and beat, Though we are parted.

Hamilton Aide [1826-1906]

REMEMBER OR FORGET

I sat beside the streamlet, I watched the water flow, As we together watched it One little year ago: The soft rain pattered on the leaves, The April gra.s.s was wet.

Ah! folly to remember; 'Tis wiser to forget.

The nightingales made vocal June's palace paved with gold; I watched the rose you gave me Its warm red heart unfold; But breath of rose and bird's song Were fraught with wild regret.

'Tis madness to remember; 'Twere wisdom to forget.

I stood among the gold corn, Alas! no more, I knew, To gather gleaner's measure Of the love that fell from you.

For me, no gracious harvest-- Would G.o.d we ne'er had met!

'Tis hard, Love, to remember, But 'tis harder to forget.

The streamlet now is frozen, The nightingales are fled, The cornfields are deserted, And every rose is dead.

I sit beside my lonely fire, And pray for wisdom yet: For calmness to remember, Or courage to forget.

Hamilton Aide [1826-1906]

NANCY DAWSON

Nancy Dawson, Nancy Dawson, Not so very long ago Some one wronged you from sheer love, dear; Little thinking it would crush, dear, All I cherished in you so.

But now, what's the odds, my Nancy?

Where's the guinea, there's the fancy.

Are you Nancy, that old Nancy?

Nancy Dawson.

Nancy Dawson, Nancy Dawson, I forget you, what you were; Till I feel the sad hours creep, dear, O'er my heart; as o'er my cheek, dear, Once of old, that old, old hair: And then, unawares, my Nancy, I remember, and I fancy You are Nancy, that old Nancy; Nancy Dawson.

Herbert P. Horne [1864-

MY LITTLE LOVE

G.o.d keep you safe, my little love, All through the night.

Rest close in His encircling arms Until the light.

My heart is with you as I kneel to pray, "Good night! G.o.d keep you in His care alway."

Thick shadows creep like silent ghosts About my bed.

I lose myself in tender dreams While overhead The moon comes stealing through the window bars.

A silver sickle gleaming 'mid the stars.

For I, though I am far away, Feel safe and strong, To trust you thus, dear love, and yet The night is long.

I say with sobbing breath the old fond prayer, "Good night! Sweet dreams! G.o.d keep you everywhere!"

Charles B. Hawley [1858-

FOR EVER

Thrice with her lips she touched my lips, Thrice with her hand my hand, And three times thrice looked towards the sea, But never to the land: Then, "Sweet," she said, "no more delay, For Heaven forbids a longer stay."

I, with my pa.s.sion in my heart, Could find no words to waste; But striving often to depart, I strained her to my breast: Her wet tears washed my weary cheek; I could have died, but could not speak.

The anchor swings, the sheet flies loose And, bending to the breeze, The tall s.h.i.+p, never to return, Flies through the foaming seas: Cheerily ho! the sailors cry;-- My sweet love lessening to my eye.

O Love, turn towards the land thy sight!

No more peruse the sea; Our G.o.d, who severs thus our hearts, Shall surely care for thee: For me let waste-wide ocean swing, I too lie safe beneath His wing.

William Caldwell Roscoe [1823-1859]

AUF WIEDERSEHEN

The little gate was reached at last, Half hid in lilacs down the lane; She pushed it wide, and, as she pa.s.sed, A wistful look she backward cast, And said,--"Auf wiedersehen!"