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330. CATHERINE H. ESLING. HOW SHALL I WOO THEE? How shall I woo thee, tell me how, With looks and words of gladness? Then gaze not on my pale, pale, brow, Nor note my tones of sadness. How shall I woo thee? with a smile That speaks the bosom clear? Look not upon mine eyes the while, Nor mark the starting tear. How shall I woo thee? with the bright And blessed words of joy? Drive from my heart its long, long night, Its early life's alloy. How shall I woo thee, tell me how? Will sorrow make thee mine? Can the sad heart I bring thee now Find favor at thy shrine? How shall I woo thee? with a gleam That glistens but to die, Fleet as the summer's moonlight beam Upon an evening sky? How shall I woo thee? as the night Woos with its silver dew The faithless flowers, that burst to light, Beneath the sun's bright hue? How shall I woo thee, tell me how? If thou hast aught of care To dim the glory of thy brow, Let me thy sadness share. How shall I woo thee? with a strain Like that of other times? CATHERINE H. ESLING. 331 And seek thro' memory's caves again, Hope's sweet delusive chimes. How shall I woo thee, tell me how? Can sorrow make thee mine? For a sad heart hath come to bow, And worship at thy shrine. HE WAS OUR FATHER'S DARLING. He was our father's darling, A bright and happy boy; -- His life was like a summer's day Of innocence and joy. His voice, like singing waters, Fell softly on the ear, So sweet, that hurrying echo Might linger long to hear. He was our mother's cherub, Her life's untarnish'd light, Her blessed joy by morning, Her vision'd hope by night. His eyes were like the day-beams That brighten all below; His ringlets like the gather'd gold Of sunset's gorgeous glow. He was our sister's plaything, A happy child of glee, That frolick'd on the parlour floor, Scarce higher than our knee. His joyous bursts of pleasure Were wild as mountain wind; His laugh, the free unfetter'd laugh Of childhood's chainless mind
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Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 16:37:16
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Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 13:53:03