London lyrics by Frederick Locker Lampson: With introduction and notes by Austin Dobson |
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TO LINA OSWALD
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 | London lyrics |  |
97
TO LINA OSWALD
(AGED FIVE YEARS)
I tumble out of bed betimes
To make my love these toddling rhymes;
And meet the hour, and meet the place
To bless her blithe good-morning face.
I send her all this heart can store;
I seem to see her as before,
An angel-child, divinely fair,
With meek blue eyes, and golden hair,
Curls tipt with changing light, that shed
A little glory round her head.
To make my love these toddling rhymes;
And meet the hour, and meet the place
To bless her blithe good-morning face.
I send her all this heart can store;
I seem to see her as before,
An angel-child, divinely fair,
With meek blue eyes, and golden hair,
Curls tipt with changing light, that shed
A little glory round her head.
Has poet ever sung or seen a
Sweeter, wiser child than Lina?
Blue are her sash and snood, and blue's
The hue of her bewitching shoes;
But, saving these, she's virgin dight,
A happy creature clad in white.
Sweeter, wiser child than Lina?
Blue are her sash and snood, and blue's
The hue of her bewitching shoes;
But, saving these, she's virgin dight,
A happy creature clad in white.
98
Again she stands beneath the boughs,
Reproves the pup, and feeds the cows;
Unvexed by rule, unscared by ill,
She wanders at her own sweet will
For what grave fiat could confine
My little charter'd libertine,
Yet free from feeling or from seeing
The burthen of her moral being?
Reproves the pup, and feeds the cows;
Unvexed by rule, unscared by ill,
She wanders at her own sweet will
For what grave fiat could confine
My little charter'd libertine,
Yet free from feeling or from seeing
The burthen of her moral being?
But change must come, and forms and dyes
Will change before her changing eyes;
She'll learn to blush, and hope, and fear—
And where shall I be then, my dear?
Will change before her changing eyes;
She'll learn to blush, and hope, and fear—
And where shall I be then, my dear?
Little gossip, set apart
But one small corner of thy heart;
There still is one not quite employ'd,
So let me find and fill that void;
Run then, and jump, and laugh, and play,
But love me though I'm far away.
But one small corner of thy heart;
There still is one not quite employ'd,
So let me find and fill that void;
Run then, and jump, and laugh, and play,
But love me though I'm far away.
Broomhall, September, 1868.
| London lyrics | |