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    Songs, Merry and Sad
    Songs, Merry and Sad
    Songs, Merry and Sad
    Ebook113 pages44 minutes

    Songs, Merry and Sad

    By John Charles McNeill

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    Songs, Merry and Sad

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      Book preview

      Songs, Merry and Sad - John Charles McNeill

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Songs, Merry and Sad, by John Charles McNeill

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Songs, Merry and Sad

      Author: John Charles McNeill

      Release Date: November 7, 2008 [EBook #1847]

      Last Updated: February 6, 2013

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS, MERRY AND SAD ***

      Produced by Alan R. Light, and David Widger

      SONGS, MERRY AND SAD

      by John Charles McNeill

      [American (North Carolina) poet. 1874-1907.]

      To

      JOSEPH P. CALDWELL

      (The Old Man)

      CONTENTS

      SONGS, MERRY AND SAD

      The Bride

      Oh, Ask Me Not

      Isabel

      To ———

      To Melvin Gardner: Suicide

      Away Down Home

      For Jane's Birthday

      A Secret

      The Old Bad Woman

      Valentine

      A Photograph

      Jesse Covington

      An Idyl

      Home Songs

      M. W. Ransom

      Protest

      Oblivion

      Now!

      Tommy Smith

      Before Bedtime

      If I Could Glimpse Him

      Attraction

      Love's Fashion

      Alcestis

      Reminiscence

      Sonnet

      Lines

      An Easter Hymn

      A Christmas Hymn

      When I Go Home

      Odessa

      Trifles

      Sunburnt Boys

      Gray Days

      An Invalid

      A Caged Mocking-Bird

      Dawn

      Harvest

      Two Pictures

      October

      The Old Clock

      Tear Stains

      A Prayer

      She Being Young

      Paul Jones

      The Drudge

      The Wife

      Vision

      September

      Barefooted

      Pardon Time

      The Rattlesnake

      The Prisoner

      Sonnet

      Folk Song

      97: The Fast Mail

      Sundown

      At Sea

      L'envoi

      SONGS, MERRY AND SAD

      The Bride

           The little white bride is left alone

           With him, her lord; the guests have gone;

               The festal hall is dim.

           No jesting now, nor answering mirth.

           The hush of sleep falls on the earth

               And leaves her here with him.

           Why should there be, O little white bride,

           When the world has left you by his side,

               A tear to brim your eyes?

           Some old love-face that comes again,

           Some old love-moment sweet with pain

               Of passionate memories?

           Does your heart yearn back with last regret

           For the maiden meads of mignonette

               And the fairy-haunted wood,

           That you had not withheld from love,

           A little while, the freedom of

               Your happy maidenhood?

           Or is it but a nameless fear,

           A wordless joy, that calls the tear

               In dumb appeal to rise,

           When, looking on him where he stands,

           You yield up all into his hands,

               Pleading into his eyes?

           For days that laugh or nights that weep

           You two strike oars across the deep

               With life's tide at the brim;

           And all time's beauty, all love's grace

           Beams, little bride, upon your face

               Here, looking up at him.

      Oh, Ask Me Not

           Love, should I set my heart upon a crown,

            Squander my years, and gain it,

           What recompense of pleasure could I own?

            For youth's red drops would stain it.

           Much have I thought on what our lives may mean,

            And what their best endeavor,

           Seeing we may not come again to glean,

            But, losing, lose forever.

           Seeing how zealots, making choice of pain,

            From home and country parted,

           Have thought it life to leave their fellows slain,

            Their women broken-hearted;

           How teasing truth a thousand faces claims,

            As in a broken mirror,

           And what a father died for in the flames

            His own son scorns as error;

           How even they whose hearts were sweet with song

            Must quaff oblivion's potion,

           And, soon or late, their sails be lost along

            The all-surrounding ocean:

           Oh, ask me not the haven of our ships,

            Nor what flag floats above you!

           I hold you close, I kiss your sweet, sweet lips,

            And love you, love you, love you!

      Isabel

           When first I stood before you,

               Isabel,

           I stood there to adore you,

               In your spell;

           For all that grace composes,

           And all that beauty

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