Daisy's Valentines

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

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

VALENTINE

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

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
tress,
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

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

LINES SUGGESTED BY THE
FOURTEENTH 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

SONG FOR THE FOURTEENTH
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.

WlNTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED.

Valentine by William Stanley Braithwaite

VALENTINE

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 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

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
bright
Were they illumined by her constant light.

M. A. De Wolfe Howe.

Valentine for My Mother

VALENTINE FOR MY MOTHER

Motherkin mine, are you fond of me, dear?
Do you really and honestly love me, I pray?
Throw me a kiss, for St. Valentine 's here!

Are you sorry I 'm so far away from you here?
Do you miss me a little, on Valentine's day?
Motherkin mine, are you fond of me, dear?

Though it come with a smile or it come with
a tear,
I'll know what you mean (though you'll
try to be gay),
Throw me a kiss, for St. Valentine 's here!

Ah, that one has reached me, so be of good
cheer -

(There's another for you, that is now on
the way)
Motherkin mine, are you fond of me, dear?

Ah, Motherkin, though you're a woman, 'tis
clear
There's one thing that you can throw
straight, I must say!
Throw me a kiss, for St. Valentine 's here!

Oh! all of the girls will be jealous, I fear -
I 'll none of their kisses, with you I would
play!
Motherkin mine, are you fond of me, dear?
Throw me a kiss, for St. Valentine 's here!

Gelett Burgess.

The Valentine

THE VALENTINE

My Valentine's a page of gold,
Upon it by the morning light
I trace new hopes and fancies bright,
So sweetly is the story told,
That old, old story, yet so new,
A little song of love, a voice
That bids my faltering soul rejoice,
A promise to be ever true;
love, sweet love, this honest heart
Unknown to coquetry or art,
Hath sworn fidelity to you.
And to my trustful heart I press
My valentine, with fond caress.

But still as sweetly as of old,
And now the long, long years have fled,
1 read the treasured sheet of gold.
What tho' my love, alas! be dead
And as I read from yonder skies
An angel with a radiant crown
Comes to my lovely chamber down
And bids me dry my streaming eyes.
So in the soft declining day
I think of him who's far away,
Whose body in the churchyard lies.
And to my broken heart I press
My valentine, with fond caress.

Eugene Field.

A Rondel

A RONDEL

Awake, awake, O gracious heart,
There 's some one knocking at the door;
The chilling breezes make him smart;
His little feet are tired and sore.

Arise, and welcome him before
Adown his cheeks the big tears start:
Awake, awake, O gracious heart,
There 's some one knocking at the door.

'Tis Cupid come with loving art
To honor, worship, and implore:
And lest, unwelcomed, he depart
With all his wise mysterious lore,

Awake, awake, O gracious heart,
There 's some one knocking at the door.

Frank Dempster Sherman.

A Valentine by Eugene Field

A VALENTINE

O Princess, what shall I bring
To offer before thy throne?
For 1 know of no joyous thing
That is not already thine own.

Youth and beauty and love
Desirest thou more than these?
Lo, from the skies above
And from far away mystical seas,

All things radiant and rare
All things tender and sweet,
Hasten, O Princess fair,
To fall in delight at thy feet.

So, Princess, what shall 1 bring,
When low I bend at thy throne?
" My heart for an offering,"
E'en that has been long thine own.

Eugene Field.

The Reeds

THE REEDS

To the reeds I will tell
That I love my love well,
They shall whisper to her,
As their slender leaves stir,
That no other than she
Can my Valentine be.
To the brookside, oh, hie thee,
Where halcyons hover,
And hark, while they sigh thee
A vow from thy lover.

M. E. G.

Valentine by John James Platt

VALENTINE

To her whose heart has made her lovely face
A Heaven for its sweet roses; her whose grace
Of thought and word and deed forever seems
The light of some sweet angel in her soul,
Stealing from Heaven in still, half conscious
dreams:
Go, little Doves, and bear this gentle scroll
(Bearing my heart) to her - ah, if she smiles,
You need not tell: I'd know it a thousand
miles!
Go, little Doves, to her for whom I pine
And softly whisper: " Here 's your Valentine."

John James Platt.

An Unsentimental Valentine

AN UNSENTIMENTAL
VALENTINE

If I met you face to face,
Maiden fair and full of grace,
I should bow and doff my hat,
Say " your servant," and all that.

While I watched your pretty ways,
I could only smile and praise,
And you'd never dream your lover
Could a flaw in you discover.

But I 'm bolder, Lady mine,
Hid behind St. Valentine;
And I '11 count you one, two, three
Faults that I can plainly see.

Once I saw a tempest rise,
Clouding o'er your pretty eyes,
When a guest came to the door
Who was old and sad and poor.

Once I saw you turn away
With a cold and fretful " nay,"
When your little brother came
Begging for some childish game.

Once I saw you sit at ease
With a book upon your knees,
While your mother, patient saint,
Did your work without complaint.

Ah, my pretty Valentine,
Ere I ask you to be mine,
I must know that lovely face
Shines with more than surface grace, 

That your captivating art
Does not hide a careless heart,
Lest when tresses brown grow white
Eyes get dim which now are bright,

Age and trouble come apace,
Stealing beauty from your face,
I should bitterly repine
Choosing you my Valentine.

Elizabeth P. Allen.

Spring Smiles

SPRING SMILES

Spring smiles anew with myriad hue,
And laughs aloud in the breeze;
Pours forth her song blithe nests among,
Her dance in the waving trees:
And sweet such joys to hear and see,
Did but my Valentine rove with me!

Each path through life with flowers is rife,
And mirth is born in the breast,
And every day has its song and play,
And every age its zest:
And such long joys in store might be,
Would but my Valentine pair with me!

Enis Herne.

A Valentine

A VALENTINE

The wise forget, dear heart;
They leave the past
And play the hero's part
Brave to the last.

They weep not nor regret, 

Calm are their eyes.
Dear heart, the wise forget.
I am not wise.

JEANNETTE BLISS GlLLESPY.

February by Mary Barker Dodge

FEBRUARY

Wan, wind-wracked month, of all the months
most bare
Of outward beauty or of inward grace;
Reserved of ancient custom to efface
By sacrificial offering, whate'er
Of taint was held to be the whole year's share :
One day, at least, thy cold, gray arms em-
brace,
That serves to set a dimple in thy face
And by its fairness make the rest more fair :
The happy day when birds begin to woo,
And win fond mates, to bless the tiny nest,
Already modelled in the tinier breast ;
The happy day in which, sweet heart, for you,
A rosier tint o'erspreads this breast of mine,
Sending its message through Saint Valentine. 

Mary Barker Dodge.