RIVALS Of all the torments, all the cares, Sure rivals are the worst! Sylvia, for all the pangs you see But not another's hope. William Walsh [1663-1708] "I LATELY VOWED, BUT 'TWAS IN HASTE" I LATELY Vowed, but 'twas in haste, That I no more would court The joys which seem when they are past As dull as they are short. I oft to hate my mistress swear, I make my oaths when she's severe, John Oldmixon [1673-1742] THE TOUCH-STONE A FOOL and knave with different views For Julia's hand apply; The knave to mend his fortune sues, The fool to please his eye. "I Took a Hansom on To-day" 827 Ask you how Julia will behave, If she's a fool she'll wed the knave If she's a knave, the fool. AIR Samuel Bishop [1731-1795] From "The Duenna " I NE'ER could any luster see But where my own did hope to sip. When yielding blushes aid their hue. Is her hand so soft and pure? That heaving bosom sigh for me. Richard Brinsley Sheridan [1751-1816] "I TOOK A HANSOM ON TO-DAY" I TOOK a hansom on to-day, For a round I used to know That I used to take for a woman's sake In a fever of to-and-fro. There were the landmarks one and all- Never a hint of a challenging hope Nor a hope laid sick and low, But a longing dead as its kindred sped William Ernest Henley [1849-1903] DA CAPO SHORT and sweet, and we've come to the end of it Our poor little love lying cold. Shall no sonnet, then, ever be penned of it? How its evening grew chill without warning, I can't say just how we began it- When the flowers you had dropped at your feet Was "Sweets to the sweet." Oh, their delicate perfume has haunted If there was one soft charm that you wanted I whispered you, life was but lonely: A cue which you graciously took; And your eyes learned a look for me only- And sometimes your hand would touch my hand, You said many things in a sigh, and Made a look express wondrously much. And all that is done! Song Against Women We were idle, and played for a moment At a game that now neither will press: It is laid with this kiss on your fingers— 'Tis a commonplace, stale situation, Now the curtain comes down from above 829 Henry Cuyler Bunner [1855-1896] SONG AGAINST WOMEN WHY should I sing of women And the softness of night, When the dawn is loud with battle And there's a sword to lay my hand to And a man's fight? Why should I sing of women? . . . There's life in the sun, And red adventure calling Where the roads run, And cheery brews at the tavern When the day's done. I've sung of a hundred women In a hundred lands: But all their love is nothing But drifting sands. I'm sick of their tears and kisses And their pale hands. And their bought lips; But out on the clean horizon I can hear the whips Of the white waves lashing the bulwarks And the trails that run to the westward Are shot with fire, And the winds hurl from the headland With ancient ire; And all my body itches With an old desire. So I'll deal no more in women And I'll sing of the sea and of battle And of men's might. Willard Huntington Wright [18 SONG OF THYRSIS THE turtle on yon withered bough, That lately mourned her murdered mate, Has found another comrade now Such changes all await! Again her drooping plume is drest, Again she's willing to be blest If nature has decreed it so And not be killed with sorrow. Philip Freneau [1752-1832] |