London lyrics by Frederick Locker Lampson: With introduction and notes by Austin Dobson |
 |
THE ROSE AND THE RING
|
 | London lyrics |  |
146
THE ROSE AND THE RING
(Christmas, 1854, and Christmas, 1863.)
She smiles, but her heart is in sable,
Ay, sad as her Christmas is chill;
She reads, and her book is the Fable
He penn'd for her while she was ill.
It is nine years ago since he wrought it,
Where reedy old Tiber is king;
And chapter by chapter he brought it,—
He read her The Rose and the Ring.
Ay, sad as her Christmas is chill;
She reads, and her book is the Fable
He penn'd for her while she was ill.
It is nine years ago since he wrought it,
Where reedy old Tiber is king;
And chapter by chapter he brought it,—
He read her The Rose and the Ring.
And when it was printed, and gaining
Renown with all lovers of glee,
He sent her this copy containing
His comical little croquis;
A sketch of a rather droll couple,
She's pretty, he's quite t'other thing!
He begs (with a spine vastly supple)
She will study The Rose and the Ring.
Renown with all lovers of glee,
He sent her this copy containing
His comical little croquis;
A sketch of a rather droll couple,
She's pretty, he's quite t'other thing!
He begs (with a spine vastly supple)
She will study The Rose and the Ring.
147
It pleased the kind Wizard to send her
The last and the best of his Toys;
He aye had a sentiment tender
For innocent maidens and boys:
And though he was great as a scorner,
The guileless were safe from his sting:
How sad is past mirth to the mourner—
A tear on The Rose and the Ring.
The last and the best of his Toys;
He aye had a sentiment tender
For innocent maidens and boys:
And though he was great as a scorner,
The guileless were safe from his sting:
How sad is past mirth to the mourner—
A tear on The Rose and the Ring.
She reads; I may vainly endeavour
Her mirth-chequer'd grief to pursue;
For she knows she has lost, and for ever,
The Heart that was bared to so few;
But here, on the shrine of his glory,
One poor little blossom I fling;—
And You see there's a nice little story
Attach'd to The Rose and the Ring.
Her mirth-chequer'd grief to pursue;
For she knows she has lost, and for ever,
The Heart that was bared to so few;
But here, on the shrine of his glory,
One poor little blossom I fling;—
And You see there's a nice little story
Attach'd to The Rose and the Ring.
1864.
| London lyrics | |