 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
JENNY.
Sweet and shy,
Sweet and shy,
With the dusky locks and the blue-gray eye,
That has stolen its beauty from the sky
And the cheeks that are red roses;
With the head bent down,
As beneath a crown,
In the daintiest of poses;
Shy and sweet,
Shy and sweet,
With the delicate form and the tripping feet,
Where the sunlight and the moonlight meet,
And all golden as a guinea;
With the saintly look,
As of gospel book,
Is the Queen of maidens, Jenny.
Sweet and shy,
With the dusky locks and the blue-gray eye,
That has stolen its beauty from the sky
And the cheeks that are red roses;
With the head bent down,
As beneath a crown,
In the daintiest of poses;
Shy and sweet,
Shy and sweet,
With the delicate form and the tripping feet,
Where the sunlight and the moonlight meet,
And all golden as a guinea;
With the saintly look,
As of gospel book,
Is the Queen of maidens, Jenny.
785
Dark and soft,
Dark and soft,
As the midnight on a summer croft,
With the west wind low and the stars aloft,
She is true as steel, and tender
As the mating dove,
When it murmurs love
In the springtide at its splendour;
Soft and dark,
Soft and dark,
With a breast that hides a heavenly spark,
And a face where sadness sets its mark,
But as dewdrops in the spinny,
With a brighter hue
From the arching blue—
There is no one quite like Jenny.
Dark and soft,
As the midnight on a summer croft,
With the west wind low and the stars aloft,
She is true as steel, and tender
As the mating dove,
When it murmurs love
In the springtide at its splendour;
Soft and dark,
Soft and dark,
With a breast that hides a heavenly spark,
And a face where sadness sets its mark,
But as dewdrops in the spinny,
With a brighter hue
From the arching blue—
There is no one quite like Jenny.
Fond and fair,
Fond and fair,
With a halo on the glorious hair,
With an angel walk and an angel air,
And the lips of crimson coral,
The despair of Art,
That in music part,
With some pure delicious moral;
Fair and fond,
Fair and fond,
She has tones that bid you not despond,
And that echo up to heights beyond;
You would never note the whinny
Of your favourite steed,
Nor another heed,
If you only heard my Jenny.
Fond and fair,
With a halo on the glorious hair,
With an angel walk and an angel air,
And the lips of crimson coral,
The despair of Art,
That in music part,
With some pure delicious moral;
Fair and fond,
Fair and fond,
She has tones that bid you not despond,
And that echo up to heights beyond;
You would never note the whinny
Of your favourite steed,
Nor another heed,
If you only heard my Jenny.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |