Thursday, April 12, 2018

Some Violets

by May Riley Smith

Dear friend, I give thee violets;
And for my fee,
The fragrant secret of thy life
Disclose to me.

For through it, like a guiding thread,
I scent the rue;
And faintly track the odorous feet
Of heart's-ease too.

Reach down on patient cords to me
Thy brimming cup
Of wise, sweet thoughts, that I may drink,
And thus toil up

To where thou art, so meekly high,
So far away.
I can but kiss my eager hands
To thee to-day.

Or, if I may not reach so high,
Then be it so;
If I may sit beside thy feet,
'Twill not be low.

And, listening soft, my soul may catch.
In some far sense.
The tuneful impulse of a life
Serene, intense.

Ah, me! I do but spoil my work
With clumsy phrase;
And mar, with my uncultured speech,
Where I would praise.

So I will lay my heart's-ease down
At thy kind feet;
Regretting sore their broken stems,
Their vanished sweet.

Yet praying that their faded blue
Some type may be
Of the fair badge my heart shall wear
Always for thee!

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

old-fashioned valentines via post...

       I've cleaned these sweet little postcards for Valentine's Day so that you could include them in your crafts and letters.
A little boy in knickers, delivers a bunch of Valentine balloons "To One I LOVE"

A pretty, bright-eyed toddler, framed with a big red heart

A red-riding-hood sits in the boughs of a blooming tree and plays her horn or flute. She has wings.

Text, "Thoughts of You St. Valentines Day" postcard, child holds a very large rose

Daisy's Valentines


All night through Daisy's sleep, it seems,
Have ceaseless " rat-taps " thundered;
All night through Daisy's rosy dreams
Have devious Postmen blundered,
Delivering letters round her bed, -
Suggestive missives, sealed with red,
And franked of course with due Queen's-
head, -
While Daisy lay and wondered.

But now, when chirping birds begin,
And Day puts oil the Quaker, -
When Cook renews her morning din
And rates the cheerful baker, -
She dreams her dream no dream at all,
For, just as pigeons come at call,
Winged letters flutter down and fall
Around her head, and wake her.

Yes, there they are! With quirk and twist,
And fraudfil art directed;
(Save Grandpapa's dear stiff old "fist,"
Through all disguise detected;)
But which is his, - her young Lothair's, -
Who wooed her on the school-room stairs
With three sweet cakes, and two ripe pears,
In one neat pile collected ?

T is there, be sure. Though truth to speak,
(If truth may be permitted),
I doubt that young "rift-bearing Greek"
Is scarce for fealty fitted;
Fbr has he not (I grieve to say),
To two loves more, on this same day,
In just the same emblazoned way,
His transient vows transmitted ?

He may be true. Yet, Daisy dear,
That even youth grown colder
You '11 find is no new thing, I fear;
And when you 're somewhat older,
You '11 read of one Dardanian boy
Who " wooed with gifts "a maiden coy, -
Then took the morning train to Troy
In spite of all he 'd told her.

But wait. Your time will come, and then
Obliging Fates, please send her
The bravest thine you have in men,
Sound-hearted, strong, and tender; -
The kind of man, dear Fates, you know,
That feels how shyly Daisies grow,
And what soft things they are, and so
Will spare to spoil or mend her.

Austin Dobson.

A Smoker's Valentine


What 's my love's name? Guess her name.
She reciprocates my flame,
Cheers me wheresoe'er I go;
Never forward, never coy,
She is ever more my joy.
Who could help but love her so?
Nicotina, mistress mine,
Thou shalt be my Valentine.

From Lyra Nicotiana

Valentine by James Jeffrey Roche


Great Antony, I drink to thee,
The Roman lover bold,
Who knew the worth of love and earth
And gave the dross for gold.

Rich Antony, I envy thee,
Who hadst a world to stake,
And, win or lose, didst bravely choose
To risk it for Her sake.

Poor Antony, I pity thee,
So small a world was thine
I 'd scorn to lay the prize to-day
Before my Valentine !

James Jeffrey Roche.

A Clear Eyed Cupid


YONGE Love, a playing in faire Celia's haire,
Became entangled in a golden snare,
And tearful vowed if she would sette him free
He 'd paye ye ransome, whatso'er it be.

She loosed his lyght wings from ye twisted
And off he fluttered, free but weaponless ;
For Celia tooke his quiver and swift bowe
For ransome, ere she lette ye rascal goe.

More merdlesse than Cupid, Celia is,
Clear-eyed, she shoots with surer aim than his ;
And, if ye quiver fail not, as we praye,
Noe man shall live, but bearesawoundeawaye.

William Lindsay.

The Lawyer's Valentine


I 'M notified, fair neighbor mine,
By one of our profession,
That this - the Term of Valentine -
Is Cupid's Special Session.

Permit me therefore to report
Myself on this occasion,
Quite ready to proceed to Court,
And File my Declaration.

I've an Attachment for you, too;
A legal and a strong one;
O, yield unto the Process, do;
Nor let it be a long one!

No scowling bailiff lurks behind;
He 'd be a precious noddy,
Who, failing to Arrest the mind,
Should go and take the Body!

For though a form like yours might throw
A sculptor in distraction;
I could n t serve a Capias - no -
I 'd scorn so base an Action!

O do not tell me of your youth,
And turn away demurely;
For though you 're very young, in truth,
You 're not an Infant, surely!

The Case is everything to me;
My heart is love's own tissue;
Don't plead a Dilatory Plea;
Let 's have the General Issue!

Or, - since you 've really no defence,
Why not, this present Session,
Omitting all absurd pretence,
Give judgment by Confession?

So shall you be my loving wife
And I - your faithful lover
Be Tenant of your heart for Life,
With no Remainder over.

John Godfrey Saxe.

Lines Suggested By The 14th of February


Darkness succeeds to twilight:
Through lattice and through skylight
The stars no doubt, if one looked out,
Might be observed to shine:
And sitting by the embers
I elevate my members
On a stray chair, and then and there
Commence a Valentine.

Yea ! by Saint Valentinus,
Emma shall not be minus
What all young ladies, whate'er their grade is,
Expect to-day no doubt :
Emma the fair, the stately,
Whom I beheld so lately,
Smiling beneath the snow-white wreath
Which told that she was "out."

Wherefore fly to her, swallow,
And mention that I 'd " follow,"
And " pipe and trill," et cetera, till
1 died, had I but wings:
Say the North f s " true and tender,"
The South an old offender;
And hint in fact, with your well-known tact,
All kinds of pretty things.

Say I grow hourly thinner,
Simply abhor my dinner.
Though 1 do try and absorb some viand
Each day for form's sake merely ;
And ask her, when all 's ended,
And I am found extended,
With vest blood-spotted and cut carotid,
To think on Her's sincerely.

Charles Stuart Calverley.

Song for The 14th Of February


by a general lover

Apollo has peeped through the shutter
And wakened the witty and fair
The boarding school belle's in a flutter,
The two-penny post 's in despair;
The breath of the morning is flinging
A magic on blossom, on spray,
And cockneys and sparrows are singing
In chorus on Valentine's Day.

Away with ye, dreams of disaster,
Away with ye, visions of law,
Of cases 1 never shall master,
Of pleadings I never shall draw!
Away with ye, parchments and papers,
Red tapes, unread volumes, away!
It gives a fond lover the vapors
To see you on Valentine's Day.

I '11 sit in my night-cap, like Hayley,
1 '11 sit with my arms crost, like Spain,
Till joys which are vanishing daily,
Come back in their lustre again:
Oh ! shall I look over the waters,
Or shall I look over the way,
For the brightest and best of Birth's daughters,
To rhyme to, on Valentine's Day?

Shall I crown with my worship, for fame's sake,
Some goddess whom Fashion has starred,
Make puns on Miss Love and her namesake,
Or pray for a pas with Brocard?
Then 1 flirt, in romantic idea,
With Chester's adorable clay,
Or whisper in transport "Si mea"
Cum Vestris" - on Valentine's Day?

Shall I kneel to a Sylvia or Celia,
Whom no one e'er saw, or may see,
A fancy drawn Laura Amelia,
An ad libit, Anna Marie?
Shall I court an initial with stars to it
Go mad for a G. or a J.,
Get Bishop to put a few bars to it
And print it on Valentine's Day? 

I think not of Laura the Witty;
For, oh! she is married at York!
I sigh not for Rose of the City,
For, oh! she is buried at Cork!
Adtte has a braver and better
To say - what I never could say;
Louise cannot construe a letter
Of English, on Valentine's Day.

So perish the leaves in the arbor I
The tree is all bare in the blast;
Like a wreck that is drifting to harbor,
I come to thee, Lady, at last
Where art thou, so lovely and lonely?
Though idle the lute and the lay,
The lute and the lay are thine only,
My fairest, on Valentine's Day. 

For thee I have opened my Blackstone,
For thee I have shut up myself;
Exchanged my long curls for a Caxton,
And laid my short whist on the shelf;
For thee 1 have sold my old sherry,
For thee 1 have burnt my new play;
And 1 grow philosophical, - very!
Except upon Valentine's Day.


Valentine by William Stanley Braithwaite


Lavish Nature's hands bestow
Meadows full of daisies;
Shelley's lark -song, Herrick's dew,
Keats' flower-fragrant mazes.
Gather all within a dream,
Admire them and ponder,
Yet your treasures will not seem
Half so great a wonder
As my love's rich charms that shine
In my verse - Her Valentine!

William Stanley Braithwaite.

My Valentine


My little Valentine is fair.
Her name - ah, don't you wish you knew?
All curling falls her soft brown hair
And her dark eyes flash as the dew
On roses sparkles when the sun
Kisses the flowers it has won
To open by its rays.

What shall I send my Valentine
Upon this joyous festal day
While Cupid's arrows flash and shine
Piercing my heart, though not to slay?
My wounded heart to her I'll send
That she, perchance, her love may lend
To bring me happy days.

Laurens Mayrard.

With A Hand-Glass To A Lady


Let not my looking on thee once, O glass f
Cloud the bright visions thou art yet to see.
My image wholly from thy face shall pass,
And her fair beauty daily shine on thee.
Tell her my darkened days would show as
Were they illumined by her constant light.

M. A. De Wolfe Howe.