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Songs and ballads

By Charles Swain
Swain, Charles (1801-1874)
 
[dedication]

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[Thou that flingest back the portal]
 
TO THE LARK.
 
TRIPPING DOWN THE FIELD-PATH.
 
HOME AND FRIENDS.
 
THE LAST MEETING.
 
SMILE AND NEVER HEED ME.
 
THE THREE CALLERS.
 
LOVE'S TRIALS.
 
BE KIND TO EACH OTHER.
 
I WAITED TILL THE TWILIGHT.
 
THE COTTAGE DOOR.
 
LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER.
 
THE OLD COTTAGE CLOCK.
 
ALADDIN'S LAMP.
 
IMAGINARY EVILS.
 
MORNING.
 
KEEP THE HEART LIGHT AS YOU CAN.
 
YESTERDAY AND TO-MORROW.
 
GIVE ME THE PEOPLE.
 
WHERE DWELLS THE FAIRY QUEEN?
 
PASSING THY DOOR.
 
SONG AND SUMMER.
 
HO! BREAKERS ON THE WEATHER BOW.
 
WHEN THE HEART IS YOUNG.
 
PROCRASTINATION.
 
THE HUSBAND'S SONG.
 
THE ORPHAN BOY.
 
OH! WHAT A WORLD IT MIGHT BE!
 
DO A GOOD TURN WHEN YOU CAN.
 
'T WAS ON A SUNDAY MORNING.
 
TO THE SEA-NYMPH.
 
THE SEA-NYMPH'S REPLY.
 
THERE'S AN HOUR.
 
DISTRESS.
 
THE UNATTAINABLE.
 
IN MY FAIRY GARDEN.
 
THE BUCCANEER'S SONG.
 
LOVE'S HISTORY.
 
A FOOT UPON THE STEP.
 
THE HUNTING MORN.
 
THE MEADOW GATE.
 
A WORD OF THINE.
 
THE OLD EVENINGS.
 
BETTER THAN BEAUTY.
 
NEAR THEE.
 
A SKETCH.
 
FORGIVE AND FORGET.
 
A PALE, PALE CHEEK.
 
HATH THE WORLD.
 
THE LILIES OF THE FIELD.
 
TIME TO ME.
 
THE NIGHT HATH GONE.
 
MAIDEN WORTH.
 
UNKINDNESS.
 
WHEN LIFE HATH SORROW FOUND.
 
LIGHT OF HEART.
 
BEAUTY IS DEAD.
 
NEVER RAIL AT THE WORLD.
 
THE BETROTHED.
 
MORTALITY.
 
THE WAYS OF HEAVEN.
 
'TWAS JUST BEFORE THE HAY WAS MOWN.
 
THE VOICE OF THE MORNING.
 
A MOMENT.
 
MIRTH.
 
GIVE ME A FRESHENING BREEZE.
 
A VIOLET.
 
PAST THE HOUR.
 
THE COTTAGE WINDOW.
 
SPEAK NO ILL.
 
THE CHAMOIS HUNTERS.
 
OPEN HEARTED.
 
THE SAILOR.
 
THERE'S A CHARM.
 
DARKNESS UPON THE SEA.
 
VILLAGE COURTSHIP.
 
THE SHIPS OF ENGLAND.
 
MARY.
 
THE COQUETTE.
 
THE SNOW.
 
LOVE GIFTS.
 
I WILL NOT GIVE MY HEART AWAY.
 
THE BEAUTIFUL DAY.

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THE COQUETTE.

Whatsoe'er she vowed to-day,—
Ere a week had fled away
She 'd refuse me!
And shall I her steps pursue,—
Follow still,—and fondly woo?—
No!—excuse me!
If she love me,—it were kind
Just to teach her her own mind;
Let her lose me!
For no more I'll seek her side,—
Court her favour,—feed her pride:
No!—excuse me!
If in idle, vain display,
She can cast my love away,
And thus use me;
96

For a fickle heart at best,
Shall I grieve and lose my rest?—
No!—excuse me!
Let her frown,—frowns never kill;
Let her shun me if she will,—
Hate,—abuse me;—
Shall I bend 'neath her annoy?
Bend,—and make my heart her toy?
No!—excuse me!
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