Blow Me Eyes Love employs, with equal favor, That which first appeared to part, Under one impartial banner, 115 Bayard Taylor. BLOW ME EYES! WHEN I was young and full o' pride, A-standin' on the grass And gazin' o'er the water-side, I seen a fisher lass. "O, fisher lass, be kind awhile," I asks 'er quite unbid. "Please look into me face and smile". And, blow me eyes, she did! O, blow me light and blow me blow, She seemed so young and beautiful (The afternoon was long and dull, But she was short and bright). "This ain't no place," I says, "to standLet's take a walk instid, Each holdin' of the other's hand And, blow me eyes, she did! O, blow me light and blow me blow, And as we walked along a lane With no one else to see, Me heart was filled with sudden pain, "If you would have me actions speak O, blow me light and blow me blow, But pretty soon me shipmate Jim As pretty as a peach. "O, fickle maid o' false intent," Impulsively I chid, "Why don't you go and wed that gent?" O, blow me light and blow me blow, But, blow me eyes, she did! Wallace Irwin. FIRST LOVE O MY earliest love, who, ere I number'd Say my life's a desert drear and arid, First Love No, mine own! though early forced to leave you, Still my heart was there where first we met; In those "Lodgings with an ample sea-view," Which were, forty years ago, To Let." There I saw her first, our landlord's oldest There she sat-so near me, yet remoter And I loved her, and our troth we plighted By a bitter fate forevermore. O my own, my beautiful, my blue-eyed! To be young once more, and bite my thumb At the world and all its cares with you, I'd Give no inconsiderable sum. Hand in hand we tramp'd the golden seaweed, Has she wedded some gigantic shrimper, That sweet mite with whom I loved to play? Yes-she has at least a dozen wee things! 117 In a home that reeks of tar and sperm-oil! O my earliest love, still unforgotten, Charles Stuart Calverley. WHAT IS A WOMAN LIKE? A WOMAN is like to-but stay What a woman is like, who can say? Now an ear, now an eye, Buzz, buzz, always buzzing about one. She is like to my mind, She's as good, very near, As a ripe, melting peach in September. If she laugh, and she chat, Play, joke, and all that, And with smiles and good humor she meet me, She's like a rich dish Of venison or fish, That cries from the table, Come eat me! But she'll plague you and vex you, Distract and perplex you; False-hearted and ranging, Unsettled and changing. What then do you think, she is like? Like sand? Like a rock? Like a wheel? Like a clock? Ay, a clock that is always at strike. Mis' Smith Her head's like the island folks tell on, Which nothing but monkeys can dwell on; She carves for each lover a slice; In truth she's to me, Like the wind, like the sea, Whose raging will hearken to no man; Like a mill, like a pill, Like a flail, like a whale, Like an ass, like a glass Whose image is constant to no man; Like a shower, like a flower, Like a fly, like a pie, Like a pea, like a flea, Like a thief, like-in brief, She's like nothing on earth-but a woman! 119 Unknown. MIS' SMITH ALL day she hurried to get through, And so the years went one by one, A second, as a stitch she took; All right, I'm comin' now," says she, I'm ready as I'll ever be, I reckon." Albert Bigelow Paine. |