Poems [43]
Dick so-so, but comfortable: John lived at a splendid rate-- Coach and horses in his stable. John could ride when Dick should walk-- (This excited people's talk!)-- For John's wealth, Dick's rugged health Few would exchange if they were able!
Dick was friendly years ago-- With ingratitude John paid him: Dick found this was always so When John had a chance to aid him. John still cut a brilliant dash, While he could command the cash, But for Dick, whom John would kick, At last a change of luck has made him!
John, 'tis said, is "bound" to lose Lots by rail, and 'bus, and cable! And the banks his notes refuse, Now they think his state unstable. This may be a story strange Of the bulls and bears on 'change, Where the truth, in age and youth, Is often a poetic fable!
King Cotton.
Old Cotton is king, boys--aha! With his locks so fleecy and white! He shines among kings like a star! And his is the sceptre of right, Boys, of right, And his is the sceptre of right!
Old Cotton, the king, has no care, No queen, and no heir to his throne, No courtiers, his triumphs to share, He rules his dominions alone, Boys, alone! He rules his dominions alone!
Old Cotton, the merry old boy!-- Like smoke from the pipe in his mouth His years glide away in their joy, At home, in the warm sunny south, Boys, the south, At home, in the warm sunny south!
Old Cotton will pleasantly reign When other kings painfully fall, And ever and ever remain The mightiest monarch of all, Boys, of all, The mightiest monarch of all!
Then here's to old Cotton, the king! His true loyal subjects are we: We'll laugh and we'll quaff and we'll sing, A jolly old fellow is he, Boys, is he, A jolly old fellow is he!
Words
Adapted to a Spanish Melody.
My lady hath as soft a hand As any queen in fairy-land; And, hidden in her tiny boot, As dainty and as light a foot. Her foot! Her little hand and foot!
No star that kindles in the sky Burns brighter than my lady's eye; And ne'er before did beauty grace So fair a form, so sweet a face! Her face! Her gentle form and face!
My lady hath a golden heart, Free from the dross of worldly art; Which, in the sight of heaven above, Is mine with all its hoarded love! Her love! Her boundless wealth of love!
Love in Exile.
Adapted to a Hungarian melody.
My heart I gave you with my hand, In brighter days than these, In that down-trodden father-land Beyond the distant seas, Where you were all the world to me, Devoted, fond, and true, And I, in our prosperity, Was all the world to you! Robbed by a tyrant's iron sway, We're banished from that land away!
Sad wanderers from our native home! A ruler in a foe! An exiled caravan we roam; But hand in hand WE go! And thus whatever fate betide We bless our lot in life, Since no misfortunes may divide The husband and the wife! Here we defy the tyrant's will, We're happy in each other still!
To The Evening Star.
The woods waved welcome in the breeze, When, many years ago, Lured by the songs of birds and bees, I sought the dell below; And there, in that secluded spot, Where silver streamlets roved, Twined the green ivy round the cot Of her I fondly loved.
In dreams still near that porch I stand To listen to her vow! Still feel the pressure of her hand Upon my burning brow! And here, as in the days gone by, With joy I meet her yet, And mark the love-light of her eyes, Fringed with its lash of jet.
O fleeting vision of the past! From memory glide away! Ye were too beautiful to last, Too good to longer stay! But why, attesting evening star, This sermon sad recall: "THAN LOVE AND LOSE 'TIS BETTER FAR TO NEVER LOVE AT ALL!"
Welcome Home.
My Mary's voice!--It is the hour She promised to be here: Taught by love's mysterious power, I know that she is near. I hear the melody she sings Beneath our
Dick was friendly years ago-- With ingratitude John paid him: Dick found this was always so When John had a chance to aid him. John still cut a brilliant dash, While he could command the cash, But for Dick, whom John would kick, At last a change of luck has made him!
John, 'tis said, is "bound" to lose Lots by rail, and 'bus, and cable! And the banks his notes refuse, Now they think his state unstable. This may be a story strange Of the bulls and bears on 'change, Where the truth, in age and youth, Is often a poetic fable!
King Cotton.
Old Cotton is king, boys--aha! With his locks so fleecy and white! He shines among kings like a star! And his is the sceptre of right, Boys, of right, And his is the sceptre of right!
Old Cotton, the king, has no care, No queen, and no heir to his throne, No courtiers, his triumphs to share, He rules his dominions alone, Boys, alone! He rules his dominions alone!
Old Cotton, the merry old boy!-- Like smoke from the pipe in his mouth His years glide away in their joy, At home, in the warm sunny south, Boys, the south, At home, in the warm sunny south!
Old Cotton will pleasantly reign When other kings painfully fall, And ever and ever remain The mightiest monarch of all, Boys, of all, The mightiest monarch of all!
Then here's to old Cotton, the king! His true loyal subjects are we: We'll laugh and we'll quaff and we'll sing, A jolly old fellow is he, Boys, is he, A jolly old fellow is he!
Words
Adapted to a Spanish Melody.
My lady hath as soft a hand As any queen in fairy-land; And, hidden in her tiny boot, As dainty and as light a foot. Her foot! Her little hand and foot!
No star that kindles in the sky Burns brighter than my lady's eye; And ne'er before did beauty grace So fair a form, so sweet a face! Her face! Her gentle form and face!
My lady hath a golden heart, Free from the dross of worldly art; Which, in the sight of heaven above, Is mine with all its hoarded love! Her love! Her boundless wealth of love!
Love in Exile.
Adapted to a Hungarian melody.
My heart I gave you with my hand, In brighter days than these, In that down-trodden father-land Beyond the distant seas, Where you were all the world to me, Devoted, fond, and true, And I, in our prosperity, Was all the world to you! Robbed by a tyrant's iron sway, We're banished from that land away!
Sad wanderers from our native home! A ruler in a foe! An exiled caravan we roam; But hand in hand WE go! And thus whatever fate betide We bless our lot in life, Since no misfortunes may divide The husband and the wife! Here we defy the tyrant's will, We're happy in each other still!
To The Evening Star.
The woods waved welcome in the breeze, When, many years ago, Lured by the songs of birds and bees, I sought the dell below; And there, in that secluded spot, Where silver streamlets roved, Twined the green ivy round the cot Of her I fondly loved.
In dreams still near that porch I stand To listen to her vow! Still feel the pressure of her hand Upon my burning brow! And here, as in the days gone by, With joy I meet her yet, And mark the love-light of her eyes, Fringed with its lash of jet.
O fleeting vision of the past! From memory glide away! Ye were too beautiful to last, Too good to longer stay! But why, attesting evening star, This sermon sad recall: "THAN LOVE AND LOSE 'TIS BETTER FAR TO NEVER LOVE AT ALL!"
Welcome Home.
My Mary's voice!--It is the hour She promised to be here: Taught by love's mysterious power, I know that she is near. I hear the melody she sings Beneath our