And, Even Yet, I Dare Not Let

The Winter Wind Is Loud And Wild, Come Close To Me, My Darling Child; Forsake Thy Books, And Mate Less Play; And, While The Night Is Gathering Grey, We'll Talk Its Pensive Hours Away.

She Bounded Before Me, And Returned To My Side, And Was Off Again Like A Young Greyhound; And, At First, I Found Plenty Of Entertaiment In Listening To The Larks Singing Far And Near; And Enjoying The Sweet, Warm Sunshine; And Watching Her, My Pet, And My Delight, With Her Golden Ringlets Flying Loose Behind, And Her Bright Cheek, As Soft And Pure In Its Bloom, As A Wild Rose, And Her Eyes Radiant With Cloudless Pleasure. She Was A Happy Creautre, And An Angel In Those Those Days. It Is A Pity She Could Not Stay Content.

Sweet Love Of Youth, Forgive, If I Forget Thee, While The World's Tide Is Bearing Me Along; Sterner Desires And Darker Hopes Beset Me, Hopes Which Obscure, But Cannot Do Thee Wrong.

Are You Acquainted With The Mood Of Mind In Which, If You Were Seated Alone, And The Cat Licking Its Kitten On The Rug Before You, You Would Watch The Operation So Intently That Puss's Neglect Of One Ear Would Put You Seriously Out Of Temper?

I Have To Remind Myself To Breathe -- Almost To Remind My Heart To Beat!