[Editor: This poem by William Blocksidge (also known as William Baylebridge) was published in Songs o’ the South (1908).]
My Love is as fair as the flowers
When Spring all her treasure is strowing!
My Love is as sweet as the showers
When November has buds all a-blowing!
And she, I’ll declare,
In her bosom doth bear
A heart with fond love overflowing!
And like to the lily is she,
Her form is so gracefully moulded;
Her eyes are as deep as the sea,
And pure as a bud just unfolded;
Her locks are a crown,
Where tucked in the brown
Are sunbeams — but whist! I’ll be scolded.
Her cheeks — ah! it sure were a sin
To tell of their blushes so chidden!
And hers is the daintiest chin
In which e’er a dimple was hidden;
A rose is her lips,
And from it there slips
Rare perfume — to me not forbidden.
And oft, as I look at my Love,
I wonder if God e’er has given
A place to one spirit above
Her matching the plan of His heaven.
But why have you smiled?
My Love is a child —
A dear little maid of just seven!
William Blocksidge, Songs o’ the South, London: Watts, 1908, pp. 18-19
chidden = chided; past tense of chide: to admonish, express disapproval, reprimand, reproach, scold (i.e. to rebuke, usually in a mild manner)
doth = (archaic) does
e’er = (vernacular) an archaic contraction of “ever”
maid = maiden, young woman, young female (may also refer to a female servant)
oft = (archaic) often
strow = archaic variation of “strew”
whist = hush; a call for silence (often an exclamation calling for silence)
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