 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
A VALENTINE.
Unprized, when all must be thy lovers,
Who know thy beautous woman's part,
I do not wear a mask that covers
The falsehood of a flattering heart.
Who know thy beautous woman's part,
I do not wear a mask that covers
The falsehood of a flattering heart.
My love is true, it may be little,
Compared with thine that is so vast,
And yet its bond is not as brittle
As louder loves, that do not last.
Compared with thine that is so vast,
And yet its bond is not as brittle
As louder loves, that do not last.
For thee no common gifts, that other
And lesser natures well may win—
I give thee all, myself, as brother,
Who reads a sister soul within.
And lesser natures well may win—
I give thee all, myself, as brother,
Who reads a sister soul within.
I ask, in earthly moil and muddle,
To help thee to some holy end,
Between the thorn or miry puddle
And thee, to stand a steadfast friend,
To help thee to some holy end,
Between the thorn or miry puddle
And thee, to stand a steadfast friend,
I ask, when thou art sad and lonely,
To take the burden and make bright
The rough and shadowy road, and only
To bear thy buffets as thy knight.
To take the burden and make bright
The rough and shadowy road, and only
To bear thy buffets as thy knight.
I ask, though other vows be fervent,
And younger suitors seek thy trust,
To be at least thy faithful servant,
And brush from thee the fouling dust.
And younger suitors seek thy trust,
To be at least thy faithful servant,
And brush from thee the fouling dust.
I ask, to share but in thy sorrow,
And not the gladness of the strife,
To raise thee still, and build thy morrow
More sweet from my own lavished life.
And not the gladness of the strife,
To raise thee still, and build thy morrow
More sweet from my own lavished life.
I ask, if angry beat the billow,
For thee the stormy strand to tread,
For thee to suffer, as a pillow
That rests a while thy aching head.
For thee the stormy strand to tread,
For thee to suffer, as a pillow
That rests a while thy aching head.
I ask for thee to live, and cherish
Whatever may be part of thine,
For thee some day with joy to perish,
And be in death thy Valentine.
Whatever may be part of thine,
For thee some day with joy to perish,
And be in death thy Valentine.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |