LILLIAN MARTIN by Moses Teggart, Springfield, Mass. U.S.A. |
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Loose locks - black as the raven, The wind delights to blow About her pulsing temples - White as the driven snow. And moon-white in its beauty - Where'er I go or stray, The sweet face of Lillian Martin It haunts me night and day. Glad when on me she glances, And saddened when I see Her silken-soft eyelashes Love's dawning hide from me. Like stars forever beaming, On life's grief-trodden way, The gray eyes of Lillian Martin Are shining night and day. |
Spirits unseen around me Strike fancy's finest strings, And still at tender twilight Play the divinest things. Though these oft give me pleasure, And sweet it is is they play The loved voice of lillian Martin I hear it night and day. Above the dark-brown water The lily hods her hands; When day stoops down to kiss them, The star-flower understands. The tremulous water-lilies, Though much beloved are they - The white hands of Lillian Martin I kiss them night and day. |
The leaves - how light they rustle! How sweet they dance along When brown October's breezes Break into mirth and song! O mild autumnal music - In my heart, no longer gay, The light feet of Lillian Martin Are dancing night and day. So charming is her manner So sweet her winning ways, She has a hundred lovers All proud to sing her praise, And one - a friendly stranger, Full oft I hear him say, "For the love of Lillian martin I'm dying night and day." |