 | The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes |  |
ROMANCE
O! she was a maid of a laughing eye,
And she lived in a garret cold and high;
And he was a threadbare, whiskered beau,
And he lived in a cellar damp and low.
And she lived in a garret cold and high;
And he was a threadbare, whiskered beau,
And he lived in a cellar damp and low.
But the rosy boy of the cherub wing
Hath many a shaft for his slender string,
And the youth below and the maid above
Were touched with the flaming darts of love.
Hath many a shaft for his slender string,
And the youth below and the maid above
Were touched with the flaming darts of love.
And she would wake from her troubled sleep,
O'er his tender billet-doux to weep;
Or stand like a statue cold and fair,
And gaze on a lock of his bright red hair.
O'er his tender billet-doux to weep;
Or stand like a statue cold and fair,
And gaze on a lock of his bright red hair.
And he who was late so tall and proud,
With his step so firm and his laugh so loud;
His beard grew long and his face grew thin,
As he pined in solitude over his gin.
With his step so firm and his laugh so loud;
His beard grew long and his face grew thin,
As he pined in solitude over his gin.
But one soft night in the month of June,
As she lay in the light of a cloudless moon,
A voice came floating soft and clear,
To the startled maiden's listening ear.
As she lay in the light of a cloudless moon,
A voice came floating soft and clear,
To the startled maiden's listening ear.
O then from her creaking couch she sprung,
And her tangled tresses back she flung;
She looked from the window far below,
And he stood beneath—her whiskered beau!
And her tangled tresses back she flung;
She looked from the window far below,
And he stood beneath—her whiskered beau!
She did not start with a foolish frown,
But she packed her trunk, and she scamper'd down;
And there was her lover tall and true,
In his threadbare coat of the brightest blue.
But she packed her trunk, and she scamper'd down;
And there was her lover tall and true,
In his threadbare coat of the brightest blue.
The star that rose in the evening shade
Looked sadly down on a weeping maid;
The sun that came in his morning pride
Shed golden light on a laughing bride.
Looked sadly down on a weeping maid;
The sun that came in his morning pride
Shed golden light on a laughing bride.
| The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes | |