22
AN HONEST VALENTINE.
What if we should quarrel?
—Bless you, all folks do:—
Will you take the war ill
Yet half like it too?
When I storm and jangle,
Obstinate, absurd,
Will you sit and wrangle
Just for the last word,—
Or, while poor Love, crying,
Upon tiptoe stands,
Heady plumed for flying,—
Will you smile, shake hands,
And the truth beholding,
With a kiss divine
Stop my rough mouth's scolding?—
Bless you, Valentine!
—Bless you, all folks do:—
Will you take the war ill
Yet half like it too?
When I storm and jangle,
Obstinate, absurd,
Will you sit and wrangle
Just for the last word,—
Or, while poor Love, crying,
Upon tiptoe stands,
Heady plumed for flying,—
Will you smile, shake hands,
And the truth beholding,
With a kiss divine
Stop my rough mouth's scolding?—
Bless you, Valentine!
If, should times grow harder,
We have lack of pelf,
Little in the larder,
Less upon the shelf;
Will you, never tearful,
Make your old gowns do,
Mend my stockings, cheerful,
And pay visits few?
Crave nor gift nor donor,
Old days ne'er regret,
We have lack of pelf,
Little in the larder,
Less upon the shelf;
Will you, never tearful,
Make your old gowns do,
Mend my stockings, cheerful,
And pay visits few?
Crave nor gift nor donor,
Old days ne'er regret,
