Poems (Victor)/The Old Man's Favorite
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For other versions of this work, see The Old Man's Favorite.
THE OLD MAN'S FAVORITE.
Do you ask where she has fled—
Lucy with the laughing eyes?
Should I tell you "she is dead,"
You would mimic tears and sighs,
And pretend a sad surprise.
Lucy with the laughing eyes?
Should I tell you "she is dead,"
You would mimic tears and sighs,
And pretend a sad surprise.
Yesterday when you were here
She was sitting on your knee,
Whispering stories in your ear
With an air of mystery
And a roguish glance at me.
She was sitting on your knee,
Whispering stories in your ear
With an air of mystery
And a roguish glance at me.
Lucy's heart was always light,
Light and free as plumed bird;
When she glanced within our sight,
Or her merry voice we heard,
Music in our hearts was stirred.
Light and free as plumed bird;
When she glanced within our sight,
Or her merry voice we heard,
Music in our hearts was stirred.
Ask you still where Lucy hides?
I will tell you by-and-by;
Look you where the river glides
In whose depths the shadows lie
Mingled, of the earth and sky.
I will tell you by-and-by;
Look you where the river glides
In whose depths the shadows lie
Mingled, of the earth and sky.
Lucy always loved that spot;
There her favorite flowers grew—
Violet, forget-me-not,
Iris, with its gold and blue,
Bending under beads of dew.
There her favorite flowers grew—
Violet, forget-me-not,
Iris, with its gold and blue,
Bending under beads of dew.
Oft on the old rustic bridge
Framed of supple boughs entwined,
Hanging from each margin s ridge,
Swinging softly in the wind,
Lucy carelessly reclined.
Framed of supple boughs entwined,
Hanging from each margin s ridge,
Swinging softly in the wind,
Lucy carelessly reclined.
Once she told me, while her eyes
Filled with tears of childish bliss,
That she could see Paradise
From her rocking resting-place,
Mirrored in the river's face:
Filled with tears of childish bliss,
That she could see Paradise
From her rocking resting-place,
Mirrored in the river's face:
That she saw the tall trees wave,
Bright-winged birds among the bowers,
And a river that did lave
Banks o'ergrown with wondrous flowers,
And a sky more fair than ours.
Bright-winged birds among the bowers,
And a river that did lave
Banks o'ergrown with wondrous flowers,
And a sky more fair than ours.
Then she asked with such a smile
As a seraph's face might wear,
If she watched a long, long while,
She should see her mother there,
Walking in the groves so fair?
When, to answer her, I said
She should see mamma in heaven,
Lightly to the bridge she sped
As if wings to her were given,
And—but look, you see 'tis riven.
As a seraph's face might wear,
If she watched a long, long while,
She should see her mother there,
Walking in the groves so fair?
When, to answer her, I said
She should see mamma in heaven,
Lightly to the bridge she sped
As if wings to her were given,
And—but look, you see 'tis riven.
Ah, you start!—your look is wild!—
Calm yourself, old man, I pray;
Lucy was no earthly child,
And 'tis well she's gone away
To her Paradise so gay.
Calm yourself, old man, I pray;
Lucy was no earthly child,
And 'tis well she's gone away
To her Paradise so gay.