London lyrics by Frederick Locker Lampson: With introduction and notes by Austin Dobson |
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GERALDINE GREEN |
 | London lyrics |  |
121
GERALDINE GREEN
I. THE SERENADE
Light slumber is quitting
The eyelids it prest;
The fairies are flitting,
That lull'd thee to rest.
Where night dews were falling,
Now feeds the wild bee;
The starling is calling,
My Darling, for thee.
The eyelids it prest;
The fairies are flitting,
That lull'd thee to rest.
Where night dews were falling,
Now feeds the wild bee;
The starling is calling,
My Darling, for thee.
The wavelets are crisper
That thrill the shy fern;
The leaves fondly whisper,
“We wait thy return.”
Arise then, and hazy
Regrets from thee fling,
For sorrows that crazy
To-morrows may bring.
That thrill the shy fern;
The leaves fondly whisper,
“We wait thy return.”
Arise then, and hazy
Regrets from thee fling,
For sorrows that crazy
To-morrows may bring.
122
A vague yearning smote us,
But wake not to weep;
My bark, Love, shall float us,
Across the still deep,
To isles where the lotus
Erst lull'd thee to sleep.
But wake not to weep;
My bark, Love, shall float us,
Across the still deep,
To isles where the lotus
Erst lull'd thee to sleep.
1861.
II. MY LIFE IS A ------
At Worthing, an exile from Geraldine G---,
How aimless, how wretched an Exile is he!
Promenades are not even prunella and leather
To lovers, if lovers can't foot them together.
How aimless, how wretched an Exile is he!
Promenades are not even prunella and leather
To lovers, if lovers can't foot them together.
He flies the parade, by the ocean he stands;
He traces a “Geraldine G.” on the sands;
Only “G.!” though her loved patronymic is “Green,”—
“I will not betray thee, my own Geraldine.”
He traces a “Geraldine G.” on the sands;
Only “G.!” though her loved patronymic is “Green,”—
“I will not betray thee, my own Geraldine.”
The fortunes of men have a time and a tide,
And Fate, the old Fury, will not be denied;
That name was, of course, soon wiped out by the sea,—
She jilted the Exile, did Geraldine G.
And Fate, the old Fury, will not be denied;
123
She jilted the Exile, did Geraldine G.
They meet, but they never have spoken since that;
He hopes she is happy,—he knows she is fat;
She woo'd on the shore, now is wed in the Strand;
And I—it was I wrote her name on the sand.
He hopes she is happy,—he knows she is fat;
She woo'd on the shore, now is wed in the Strand;
And I—it was I wrote her name on the sand.
1854.
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