 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
MILLY.
The bellows in the stithy sighs and moans, –
Upon the anvil rings the metric hammer,
While, mingling with the sharp, metallic tones,
Some idlers' voices aid to swell the clamor.
I peer within; the smith, with skillful blow,
Fashions a shoe to fit yon fractious filly;
He's not the one who, forty years ago,
Worked here, and had a pretty daughter, Milly.
Upon the anvil rings the metric hammer,
While, mingling with the sharp, metallic tones,
Some idlers' voices aid to swell the clamor.
I peer within; the smith, with skillful blow,
Fashions a shoe to fit yon fractious filly;
He's not the one who, forty years ago,
Worked here, and had a pretty daughter, Milly.
My mind goes back to childhood's spring again,
Though now my life has reached its wintry weather,
When she was seven, and I scarce more than ten,
And we, on week days, went to school together.
The school-boys, when they saw me walk with her,
Said I was half a girl, and called me silly;
They knew not how my heart within would stir
At every word and glance of gentle Milly.
Though now my life has reached its wintry weather,
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And we, on week days, went to school together.
The school-boys, when they saw me walk with her,
Said I was half a girl, and called me silly;
They knew not how my heart within would stir
At every word and glance of gentle Milly.
Ten years rolled on, and she had grown more shy,
And I more bashful when I chanced to meet her;
But when we threw our childish friendship by,
We found instead a feeling deeper, sweeter.
What if we both were poor? Who cares in youth,
When hearts are warm, if fortune should be chilly?
Our common store was in our common truth;
Milly was rich in me, and I in Milly.
And I more bashful when I chanced to meet her;
But when we threw our childish friendship by,
We found instead a feeling deeper, sweeter.
What if we both were poor? Who cares in youth,
When hearts are warm, if fortune should be chilly?
Our common store was in our common truth;
Milly was rich in me, and I in Milly.
What castles in the air we builded then!
For coming happiness what artless scheming!
Ah! of all pleasant thoughts entrancing men,
The sweetest is the raptured lover's dreaming!
But older heads than ours our future planned;
We youngsters thought their action to be silly
When they sent me to seek another land
To win a fortune, parting me and Milly.
For coming happiness what artless scheming!
Ah! of all pleasant thoughts entrancing men,
The sweetest is the raptured lover's dreaming!
But older heads than ours our future planned;
We youngsters thought their action to be silly
When they sent me to seek another land
To win a fortune, parting me and Milly.
We, tearful, parted then; and, far away,
I toiled straight on, my quest of wealth rewarded;
I kept my love intact for many a day,
My vows of truth within my heart recorded;
But gaining much begat the thirst for more;
Love before avarice lifeless grew and stilly:
Absence has deadened thoughts of long before;
Here I return, but not to look for Milly.
I toiled straight on, my quest of wealth rewarded;
I kept my love intact for many a day,
My vows of truth within my heart recorded;
But gaining much begat the thirst for more;
Love before avarice lifeless grew and stilly:
Absence has deadened thoughts of long before;
Here I return, but not to look for Milly.
272
I would not see her now—the lingering kiss,
The tender, sweet embrace when last we parted—
These—these—but stay! What apparition's this,
So like, that sudden into life has started?
She's coming to the forge. Dark violet eyes,
Hair like the sun, complexion like the lily;
She has her face, her grace, and even her size—
What is your name, my child? I thought so—Milly.
The tender, sweet embrace when last we parted—
These—these—but stay! What apparition's this,
So like, that sudden into life has started?
She's coming to the forge. Dark violet eyes,
Hair like the sun, complexion like the lily;
She has her face, her grace, and even her size—
What is your name, my child? I thought so—Milly.
She calls her sire to dinner. Yes! I know
The story plain—the whole is clear as water;
The faithless Milly wedded long ago,
And here we have another blacksmith's daughter.
I'll back unto my money-bags again;
I must to avarice yield me willy-nilly;
One sigh for olden memories, and then
Bury the past, and with it thoughts of Milly.
The story plain—the whole is clear as water;
The faithless Milly wedded long ago,
And here we have another blacksmith's daughter.
I'll back unto my money-bags again;
I must to avarice yield me willy-nilly;
One sigh for olden memories, and then
Bury the past, and with it thoughts of Milly.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |