At Last MARGARET TO DOLCINO Ask if I love thee? Oh, smiles cannot tell Ask if I love thee? How else could I borrow 1181 Pride from man's slander, and strength from my sorrow? Weeping by thee. Charles Kingsley [1819-1875] DOLCINO TO MARGARET THE world goes up and the world goes down, And yesterday's sneer, and yesterday's frown, Sweet wife: No, never come over again. For woman is warm, though man be cold, Till the heart which at even was weary and old Can rise in the morning gay, Sweet wife; To its work in the morning gay. Charles Kingsley [1819-1875] AT LAST WHEN first the bride and bridegroom wed, They love their single selves the best; A sword is in the marriage bed, Their separate slumbers are not rest. Both right and wrong, They struggle long, Till some good day, when they are old, They lose themselves, and find each other; Richard Henry Stoddard [1825-1903] THE WIFE TO HER HUSBAND LINGER not long. Home is not home without thee: O, let its memory, like a chain about thee, Gently compel and hasten thy return! Linger not long. Though crowds should woo thy staying, Bethink thee, can the mirth of thy friends, though dear, Compensate for the grief thy long delaying Costs the fond heart that sighs to have thee here? Linger not long. How shall I watch thy coming, How shall I watch for thee, when fears grow stronger, How shall I weep, when I can watch no longer! Yet I shall grieve not, though the eye that seeth me Haste, haste thee home unto thy mountain dwelling, Haste, as a skiff, through tempests wide and swelling, Unknown The Sailor's Wife 1183 A WIFE'S SONG O WELL I love the Spring, When the sweet, sweet hawthorn blows; And the coming of the rose; November may be dreary, For the roaring wind and the blessed time That brings him home again. William Cox Bennett [1820-1895] THE SAILOR'S WIFE AND are ye sure the news is true? Ye jauds, fling by your wheel! Rax down my cloak-I'll to the quay, And see him come ashore. For there's nae luck aboot the house, There's nae luck ava', There's little pleasure in the house, And gi'e to me my bigonet, My bishop's satin gown; For I maun tell the baillie's wife That Colin's in the town. 1 My Turkey slippers maun gae on, For he's baith leal and true. Rise, lass, and mak' a clean fireside, Gi'e little Kate her button gown, And Jock his Sunday coat. And mak' their shoon as black as slaes, It's a' to please my own gudeman, There's twa hens upon the bauk, And spread the table neat and clean, For wha can tell how Colin fared, When he was far awa'? Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, His breath like caller air; If Colin's weel, and weel content, Jerry an' Me For there's nae luck aboot the house, There's little pleasure in the house When our gudeman's awa'. 1185 William Julius Mickle [1735-1788] JERRY AN' ME No matter how the chances are, My Jerry there has left the sea They told him-Lor', men take no care Take any man on sea or land If he is young 'twill do, but then, A month will be a year to him. He sits by me, but most he walks Till she becomes a speck, I cannot bring him back again, While I can cast a stitch or fill A needleful o' thread. |