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And the blossom mouth and the dainty chin,
The girl I love-
A song for the girl I loved
God loved her! A song for the eyes of faded light, And the cheek whose red rose waned to white, And the quiet brow, with its shadow and gleam, And the dark lashes drooped in a long deep
dream, And the small hands crossed for their churchyard
The girl I loved
WE LOVE BUT FEW.
Oh, yes we mean all kind words that we say
To old friends and to new;
We love but few.
We love! we love! What easy words to say
And sweet to hear,
And, far and near,
Are breath of flowers and caroling of birds,
And bells that chime; Our hearts are light; we do not weigh our words
At morning time!
But when the matin music all is hushed,
And life's great load
Doth grow the road,
Then do we say less often that we love.
The words have grown!
And clasp our own.
Their lives are bound to us by mighty bands
No mortal strait, Nor Death himself, with his prevailing hands,
The world is wide, and many friends are dear,
And friendships true; Yet do these words read plainer year by year, We love but few.
THINE EYES. Thou hast diamonds and pearls of rare beauty,
Thou hast all that the heart can admire; Thine eyes shine far brighter than jewels
What more can my darling desire?
In thine eyes, bright as stars of the evenings
Have I written and tuned to my lyre Whole volumes of rapturous sonnets
What more can my darling desire ?
With thine eyes of unquenchable splendor
Hast thou kindled my heart into fire, And forced me to kneel as thy suitorWhat more can my darling desire ?
From the German of HEINE.
Her lips were so near
THE RING'S MOTTO.
A lover gave the wedding ring
Into the goldsmith's hand; “Grave me,” he said, “a tender thought
Within the golden band,”
THE RING'S MOTTO.
The goldsmith graved
The wedding bell rang gladly out;
The husband said, “O wife,
I give to thee
'Twas she that lifted now his hand,
(O love, that this should be !) Then on it placed the golden band, And whispered tenderly;
« Till death us join. Lo, thou art mine, And I am thine.
“ And when death joins, we nevermore
Shall know an aching heart,
That troth will be,
So up the hill and down the hill,
Through fifty changing years,
They shared each other's happiness,
But one sad day-she stood alone
Beside his narrow bed;
“O man who graved
“Now grave four other words for me,
"Till death us join. He took The precious golden band once more, With solemn, wistful look,
And wrought with care,
WHERE IGNORANCE IS BLISS.
Is love contagious ?-I don't know;