An Old Sweetheart of Mine
An old sweetheart of mine!-Is this her presence here with me,
Or but a vain creation of a lover's memory?
A fair, illusive vision that would vanish into air
Dared I even touch the silence with the whisper of a prayer?
Nay,let me then believe in all the blended false and true
The semblance of the old love and the substance of the new
The then of changeless sunny days-the now of shower and shine
But Love forever smiling-as that Old Sweetheart of Mine
This ever restful sense of home, though shouts ring in the hall
The easy chair - the old book-shelves and prints along the wall
The rare Habanas in their box, or gaunt church-warden stem
That often wags, above the jar, derisively at them.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album
fragrant retrospection,-for the loving thoughts that start,
from the blossom of the heart;
And to dream the old dreams over is aluxury divine-
When my truant fancies wander with that old sweetheart of mine.
Though I hear beneath my study, like a fluttering of wings,
The voices of my children and the mother as she sings,
I feel no twinge of conscience to deny me any theme
When Care has cast her anchor in the harbor of a dream-
In fact, to speak in earnest, I believe it adds a charm
To spice the good a trigle with a little dust of harm-
For I find an extra flavor in Memory's mellow wine.
That makes me drin the deeper to that old sweetheart of mine.
O Childhood-days enchanted! O the magic of the Spring!-
With all green boughs to blossom white, and all bluebirds tosing!
When all the air, to toss and quaff, made life a jubilee
and changed the children's song and laugh to shrieks of ecstasy.
With eyes half closed in clouds that ooze from lips that taste, as well,
The peppermint and cinamon, I hear the old School Bell,
And from "Recess" romp in again from "Blackman's" broken line,
To smile, behind my "lesson," at that old sweetheart of mine.
A face of lily beauty, with a form of airy grace,
Floats out of my tobacco as the Genii from the vase;
And I thrill beneath the glances of a pair of azure eyes
As glowing as the summer and as tender as the skies.
I can see the pink sunbonnet and the little checkered dress
She wore when first I kissed her and she answered the caress
Witht he written declaration that, "as surely as the vine
Grew 'round the stump," she loved me- that old sweetheart of mine.
Again I made her presents, in a really helpless way,-
The big "Rhode Island Greening"-I was hungry, too, that day!-
But I follow her from Spelling, with her hand behind he
An Old Sweetheart Of Mine
An old sweetheart of mine!-Is this her presence here with me,
Or but a vain creation of a lover's memory?
A fair, illusive vision that would vanish into air
Dared I even touch the silence with the whisper of a prayer!
Nay, let me then believe in all the blended false and true-
The semblance of the old love and the substance of the new-
the then of changeless sunny days-the now of shoer and shine-
But love forever smiling-as that old sweetheart of mine.
This ever-restful sense of home, though shouts ring in the hall-
the easy chair-the old book-shelves and prints along the wall,
The rare habanas in their box, or gaunt church-warden-stem,
That often wags, above the jar, deriseively at them.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album, all alone,
And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of Fancy, till, in shadowy design,
I find the smiling features of an old sweet hear of mine.
The lamplight seems to glimmer with a flicker of surprise,
As I turn it low-to rest me of the dazzle in my eyes.
And light my pipe in silence, save a sigh that seems to yoke
Its fate with my tabacco and to vanish with the smoke.
Tis a fragrant retrospection,-for the loving thoughts that start,
Into being are like perfume fromt he blossom of the heart;
And to dream the old dreams over is aluxury divine-
When my truant fancies wander with that old sweetheart of mine.
Though I hear beneath my study, like a fluttering of wings,
The voices of my children and the mother as she sings,
I feel no twinge of conscience to deny me any theme
When Care has cast her anchor in the harbor of a dream-
In fact, to speak in earnest, I believe it adds a charm
To spice the good a trigle with a little dust of harm-
For I find an extra flavor in Memory's mellow wine.
That makes me drin the deeper to that old sweetheart of mine.
O Childhood-days enchanted! O the magic of the Spring!-
With all green boughs to blossom white, and all bluebirds tosing!
When all the air, to toss and quaff, made life a jubilee
and changed the children's song and laugh to shrieks of ecstasy.
With eyes half closed in clouds that ooze from lips that taste, as well,
The peppermint and cinamon, I hear the old School Bell,
And from "Recess" romp in again from "Blackman's" broken line,
To smile, behind my "lesson," at that old sweetheart of mine.
A face of lily beauty, with a form of airy grace,
Floats out of my tobacco as the Genii from the vase;
And I thrill beneath the glances of a pair of azure eyes
As glowing as the summer and as tender as the skies.
I can see the pink sunbonnet and the little checkered dress
She wore when first I kissed her and she answered the caress
Witht he written declaration that, "as surely as the vine
Grew 'round the stump," she loved me- that old sweetheart of mine.
Again I made her presents, in a really helpless way,-
The big "Rhode Island Greening"-I was hungry, too, that day!-
But I follow her from Spelling, with her hand behind her-so-
and I slip the apple in it-and the Teacher doesn't know!
I give my treasures to her-all,-my pencil-blue and red;-
And, if little girls played marbles, mine should all be heres, instead!
But she gave me her photograph, and printed "Ever Thine"
Across the back-inblue and red-that old sweetheart of mine!
And again I feel the pressure of her slender little hand,
As we used to talk together of the future we had planned,-
when I should be a poet, and with nothing else to do
But write the tender verses that she set the music to .....
When we should live together in a dozy little cot
Hid in a nest of roses, with a fairy garden spot,
Where the vines were ever fruited, and the weather ever fine,
And the birds were ever singing for that old sweetheart of mine.
When I should be her lover forever and a day,
And she my faithful sweetheart till the golden hair was gray;
And we should be so happy that when either's lips were dumb
They would not smile in Heaven till the other's kiss had come.
But, ah! my dream is broken by a step upon the stair,
And the door is softly opened, and-my wife is standing there:
Yet with eagerness and rapture all my visions I resign,-
To greet the living presence of that old sweetheart of mine.
-
---James Whitcomb Riley
Get your own free web space.