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A STORY OF A SERENADE.
A PATHETIC AND MOVING LOVE DITTY.
Lovers, with suspended breath,
Read this tale of love and death,
And, if to serenade you 'd roam,
Know first if your love 's at home.
Read this tale of love and death,
And, if to serenade you 'd roam,
Know first if your love 's at home.
On a last-summer night,
When the moon shone bright,
And the weather hot
Drove the pulse like shot,
Fond lovers were walking,
Sighing and talking;
Cits toasting and fretting,
And fuming and sweating;
All vigils keeping,
In vain wooing sleeping.
When the moon shone bright,
And the weather hot
Drove the pulse like shot,
Fond lovers were walking,
Sighing and talking;
Cits toasting and fretting,
And fuming and sweating;
All vigils keeping,
In vain wooing sleeping.
It was June, sweet June,
And out 'neath the moon
A lover “hot-pressed,”
With his passion distressed,
Would fain wake an air
To the charms of his fair.
He sung by her lattice,—
Her room window, that is,—
And, melting away
With the heat and his lay,
This was the song
That floated along:
And out 'neath the moon
A lover “hot-pressed,”
With his passion distressed,
Would fain wake an air
To the charms of his fair.
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Her room window, that is,—
And, melting away
With the heat and his lay,
This was the song
That floated along:
SONG OF THE NIGHT.
O, come to your window, dearest!
And list to the lay I sing;
My love for you is sincerest—
I love you like everything!
The moon all my ardor is waking,
As it wakes up the tides of the ocean;
O, tell me that I'm not mistaken,
That your heart feels for me an emotion!
And list to the lay I sing;
My love for you is sincerest—
I love you like everything!
The moon all my ardor is waking,
As it wakes up the tides of the ocean;
O, tell me that I'm not mistaken,
That your heart feels for me an emotion!
Now, dearest, your dad 's in the city,
Come down and open the door;
O, do give some token of pity,
Nor let me in anguish implore!
While here on the boards I 'm a sitting,
The dew falls fast on my head,
My jacket is getting a wetting,
And the hope in it 's e'en a'most fled.
Come down and open the door;
O, do give some token of pity,
Nor let me in anguish implore!
While here on the boards I 'm a sitting,
The dew falls fast on my head,
My jacket is getting a wetting,
And the hope in it 's e'en a'most fled.
Such love as mine you 've ne'er known, love,
I 've never half told it before;
My heart shall be all your own, love,
If you will just open the door.
I love not for jewels or plate, love,
My passion divides not with pelf;
And credit me true when I state, love,
No female I love like yourself.
I 've never half told it before;
My heart shall be all your own, love,
If you will just open the door.
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My passion divides not with pelf;
And credit me true when I state, love,
No female I love like yourself.
Thus he sang to the night,—
At the window no light,
Nor nightcap white,
Gladdened his sight;
No voice to cheer him,
And no ear to hear him,
Or, rather, the ear
That he wanted to hear;
No bright eye shining
Cheered his repining,
Its gleam compensating
Amply for “waiting;”
No vision half certain
Stirred the snow-white curtain;
When weary, down-hearted,
He home again started;
But naught could be borrow
To add to his sorrow,
When face to face met he
The damsel so pretty,
Who, with music outpouring,
He 'd just been adoring,
Talking most mellow
With a dashing big fellow!
He murmured adieu,
As she passed from his view,
And went home to bed,
With a brick on his head.
At the window no light,
Nor nightcap white,
Gladdened his sight;
No voice to cheer him,
And no ear to hear him,
Or, rather, the ear
That he wanted to hear;
No bright eye shining
Cheered his repining,
Its gleam compensating
Amply for “waiting;”
No vision half certain
Stirred the snow-white curtain;
When weary, down-hearted,
He home again started;
But naught could be borrow
To add to his sorrow,
When face to face met he
The damsel so pretty,
Who, with music outpouring,
He 'd just been adoring,
Talking most mellow
With a dashing big fellow!
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As she passed from his view,
And went home to bed,
With a brick on his head.
Despair then seized him,
“Schnaps” never eased him.
There came one morning
To the crowner a warning,
That folks had just found
A man that was drowned.
Then this was the verdict the crowner made:
That his aqueous friend
Had come to his end
By gin and water and a serenade.
“Schnaps” never eased him.
There came one morning
To the crowner a warning,
That folks had just found
A man that was drowned.
Then this was the verdict the crowner made:
That his aqueous friend
Had come to his end
By gin and water and a serenade.
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