Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver By William Thom. Edited, with a Biographical Sketch, by W. Skinner |
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SOMETHING ABOUT DIMPLES:
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 | Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver |  |
97
SOMETHING ABOUT DIMPLES:
THEIR USE AND ORIGIN.
Your Helen's eye it speaketh yet—
Maybe with half its former sheen,
And that same cheek where roses met
May lack the brightness that hath been.
Time, onward in his withering stride,
Will dim the eye, will sear the skin;
But yon kirk-yard alone can hide
That dimple on your Helen's chin.
Maybe with half its former sheen,
And that same cheek where roses met
May lack the brightness that hath been.
Time, onward in his withering stride,
Will dim the eye, will sear the skin;
But yon kirk-yard alone can hide
That dimple on your Helen's chin.
But guess ye how her dimple's made?
I'll tell, for that full well I know—
A naughty little angel stray'd,
To have a frolic here below:—
The infant Helen cradled lay,
All fair as aught of earth might be;
Heaven's tiny truant pass'd that way
To see—whatever he could see.
I'll tell, for that full well I know—
A naughty little angel stray'd,
To have a frolic here below:—
The infant Helen cradled lay,
All fair as aught of earth might be;
Heaven's tiny truant pass'd that way
To see—whatever he could see.
“My eye! what have we here?” he cries—
“Can earth claim all this pretty elf?
Or is it one hath left the skies,
To go a roaming like myself?”
He touched the eyebrow—touched the cheek—
He vowed she was of mortal kin;
Kissing the lips, o'er young to speak,
He delved yon dimple with his chin.
“Can earth claim all this pretty elf?
Or is it one hath left the skies,
To go a roaming like myself?”
He touched the eyebrow—touched the cheek—
He vowed she was of mortal kin;
Kissing the lips, o'er young to speak,
He delved yon dimple with his chin.
98
These fairy honey cups at first
Were formed for folks beneath the sky,
Till, mad beyond all mortal thirst,—
Some jolly angels drained them dry.
Dear woman—mindful aye enough—
Found smirks and sighs, and sulks and tears,
The very, very kind of stuff
To lull her domineering dears.
Were formed for folks beneath the sky,
Till, mad beyond all mortal thirst,—
Some jolly angels drained them dry.
Dear woman—mindful aye enough—
Found smirks and sighs, and sulks and tears,
The very, very kind of stuff
To lull her domineering dears.
Man eats as he had never err'd—
He drinks as he had never eaten
Yon deadly fruit; nor wisely cared
What thorny way it lured his feet in.
He, mildly thankful, happy man—
The cup is his—the power is given
To make the most that e'er he can,
Of all the cast by bits of heaven.
He drinks as he had never eaten
Yon deadly fruit; nor wisely cared
What thorny way it lured his feet in.
He, mildly thankful, happy man—
The cup is his—the power is given
To make the most that e'er he can,
Of all the cast by bits of heaven.
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