When hearts are trumps Part 3

And she was thinking then, I trow, Of one who, in a whispered vow Beneath the budding elm, Had told her they would sail their barque On lakes where pale stars pierced the dark, With Cupid at the helm.

Anon, a faint smile pursed her lips And shook her dainty finger-tips, As breezes shake the boughs; And then a quick, impetuous frown Came gathering from her ringlets down, And perched upon her brows.

Ah, she was thinking then, I ween, Of me, poor clumsy dunce, who e'en Had torn her silken dress.

I waltzed too near her at the ball; Her beauty dazed me--that was all; I felt a dizziness.

To Beauty.

"Oh, Mistress Beauty," said my sigh, "I'd laugh to scorn all other blisses, If you and I might live and die Together on such fare as kisses.

"Your kirtle would not be of silk, The band around it but torn leather.

I think our wine would be plain milk; I think we'd oft see stormy weather.

"But, oh, there are some things in life Worth more to men than fame or money; And one of them's a sweet young wife, So pure, so honest, and so bonnie."

Dreaming of You.

My soul feels refreshed, like a rose kissed by dew, When waking I know I've been dreaming of you.

They thought I was mad. Ah, my sweet, if they knew That my malady simply was dreaming of you!

I've one wish. 'Tis to sleep all the long ages through By your side, you my bride, and I dreaming of you.

Please Return.

Now, all you pretty maids in town, Take heed of my sad plight.

I've lost a kiss; I'll give a crown To get it back to-night.

I threw it, poet-like, I own, Up to a silvery star; I must confess I might have known I could not throw so far.

But, oh, surprise! It circled round, And sank as though 't were laden With love--when almost to the ground 'T was caught by some young maiden.

And that young maid I wish to find.

I've lost a kiss, alack!

It is not hers. She'll not be kind Unless she give it back.

Almost Dying of Ennui.

What are the charms of the sea?

Oh for an hour of the city!

What are the dull waves to me?

Can they say anything witty?

What do they care for my lips?

Why did I come? It's a pity!

Nothing but water and s.h.i.+ps, And Jack far away in the city.

Oh for one ride in the park, With Jack humming bars from a ditty; Kissing me (when it grows dark).

Fy! Oh--heigho, for the city!

Jacks from Jack.

Fresh, fragrant, tempting, balmy, red-- What fool would send them back?

Why do I wish that I were dead, With all these jacks from Jack?

Why do I bite my lips and frown, Tear b.u.t.tons off my sacque, When, just returning to the town, I get these jacks from Jack?

Alas, for pleasure's giddy whirl, For summer lost, alack!

He's off to see some other girl; That's why mere jacks from Jack.

Hyacinths.

Hyacinths, tenderly sweet, Is it life that you ask in your prayer?

Ah, I would die at her feet, If I could be one of you there.

There on her billowy breast, So near to her innocent heart, That its beating would lull me to rest, And to dream I should never depart.

Sighing are you for the stars?

Look in the depths of her eyes.

Is there a gem of the Czar's So much like those gems of the skies?

Is it the dew that you miss?

Hyacinths, hyacinths, wait.

Soon she will give you a kiss.

Oh, how I envy your fate!

In The Waltz.