A Little Book of Old Time Verse

Old-fashioned Flowers Gathered by

Gladys Sidney Crouch

Published by P. F. Volland Company NEW YORK CHICAGO TORONTO

Copyright, 1917 P. F. Volland Company Chicago

To My Father

That the verses in this little book will bring back sweet memories of the long ago to every reader, as they do to me, is the earnest wish of the humble gatherer of these old-fashioned flowers. G. S. C.

CHRONOLOGICAL INDEX OF AUTHORS

Sir Edward Dyer. (Born 1550—Died 1607.) To Phyllis, the Fair Shepherdess

Sir Philip Sidney. (Born 1554—Died 1586.) A Ditty

John Lyly. (Born 1554—Died 1606.) Appelles' Song

Thomas Lodge. (Born 1556—Died 1625.) Love's Wantonness

Thomas Campion. (Born (unknown)—Died 1619.) Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air Come, O come, my life's delight

Robert Green. (Born 1560—Died 1592.) Content

Christopher Marlowe. (Born 1562—Died 1593.) The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

William Shakespeare. (Born 1564—Died 1616.) O Mistress Mine, Where are you Roaming

Ben Jonson. (Born 1573—Died 1637.) To Celia

John Donne. (Born 1573—Died 1631.) Song

Francis Beaumont. (Born 1584—Died 1610.) Fie on Love

George Wither. (Born 1588—Died 1667.) The Author's Resolution in a Sonnet

Thomas Carew. (Born 1589—Died 1639.) Song A Fragment Truce in Love Entreated Phillida Flouts Me

Robert Herrick. (Born 1591—Died 1674.) A Hymn to Love To Anthea To Daffodils To Electra To his Mistress To his Mistress, Objecting to his Neither Toying nor Talking To the Virgins, to make much of Time

Henry King. (Born 1592—Died 1669.) On the Life of Man

Thomas Bateson. (Born 1600—Died (no record).) Her hair the net of golden wire

Sir William D'Avenant. (Born 1605—Died 1668.) The Lark now Leaves his Watr'y Nest

Edmund Waller. (Born 1605—Died 1687.) Song: Go Lovely Rose Song to Flavia

Sir John Suckling. (Born 1609—Died 1641.) Why so pale and wan, fond lover Song: O pr'y thee send me back my heart The Constant Lover

Richard Lovelace. (Born 1618—Died 1658.) Stone walls do not a prison make To Althea, from Prison To Lucasta, on going to the wars

Thomas Stanley. (Born 1625—Died 1678.) Speaking and Kissing

Walter Porter. (Born (no record)—Died 1649.) Love in thy youth, fair maid, be wise

George Granville (Lord Lansdowne). (Born 1668—Died 1735.) Adieu L'Amour

William Congreve. (Born 1672—Died 1728.) Song: Though she be false to me and love

John Oldmixon. (Born 1673—Died 1742.) Song: I lately vowed but 'twas in haste

Dr. Isaac Watts. (Born 1674—Died 1748.) Few Happy Matches

Aaron Hill. (Born 1684—Died 1749.) Song: Gentle love, this hour befriend me

William Somerville. (Born 1692—Died 1742.) Cupid Mistaken Song: Hard is the fate of him who loves To a discarded toast

Thomas Walker. (Born 1698—Died 1743.) Sweet love, I will no more abuse thee

James Thomson. (Born 1700—Died 1748.) Unless with my Amanda blest

George Lyttleton. (Born 1709—Died 1773.) Song: When Delia on the plain appear

Edward Moore. (Born 1711—Died 1757.) Song: How blest has my time been

John Wilke. (Born 1727—Died 1797.) Love not me for comely grace

Robert Burns. (Born 1759—Died 1796.) Delia My Jean Of A' the Airts the Wind Can Blaw The Bonnie Wee Thing

Sir Walter Scott. (Born 1771—Died 1832.) The Truth of Woman

Samuel Taylor Coleridge. (Born 1772—Died 1834.) Names

Walter Savage Landor. (Born 1775—Died 1864.) The Maid I love ne'er thought of me

William Stanley Roscoe. (Born 1782—Died 1841.) To Spring: On the Banks of the Cam

Leigh Hunt. (Born 1784—Died 1859.) Jenny Kissed Me The Nun

Bryan Waller Proctor. (Born 1787—Died 1874.) Hermione

George Gordon (Lord Byron). (Born 1788—Died 1824.) There be none of Beauty's daughters

William Cullen-Bryant. (Born 1794—Died 1878.) The Forest Maid

George Darley. (Born 1795—Died 1846.) Love's Likeness

Hartley Coleridge. (Born 1796—Died 1849.) Song: She is not fair to outward view To a lofty beauty, from her poor kinsman

Thomas Hood. (Born 1798—Died 1845.) Time of Roses

Sir Henry Taylor. (Born 1800—Died 1886.) Song: The bee to the heather

Ralph Waldo Emerson. (Born 1803—Died 1882.) Days

James Clarence Mangan. (Born 1803—Died 1849.) Advice against travel

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. (Born 1806—Died 1861.) My Kate Grief

John Greenleaf Whittier. (Born 1807—Died 1892.) Memories All's Well

Oliver Wendell Holmes. (Born 1809—Died 1894.) There is no friend like an old friend

Robert Jones. (Born 1809—Died 1879.) Once did my thoughts both ebb and flow

Alfred Tennyson. (Born 1809—Died 1892.) Song from 'The Princess'

Edgar Allan Poe. (Born 1809—Died 1849.) To Helen

Frances Anne Kemble. (Born 1809—Died 1893.) Faith

John Stuart Blackie. (Born 1809—Died 1895.) My Loves

Robert Browning. (Born 1812—Died 1889.) Home-Thoughts from Abroad

Philip James Bailey. (Born 1816—Died 1902.) My Lady

Henry David Thoreau. (Born 1817—Died 1862.) Love

John Ruskin. (Born 1819—Died 1900.) Trust thou thy love

Francis Turner Palgrave. (Born 1823—Died 1897.) Eutopia

William Caldwell Roscoe. (Born 1823—Died 1859.) Spiritual Love

George Meredith. (Born 1828—Died 1909.) Lucifer in Starlight Woman Love in the Valley

Richard Garnett. (Born 1835—Died 1906.) The Fair Circassian

Matilda Betham Edwards. (Born 1836.) A Valentine

Christina Georgina Rossetti. (Born 1839—Died 1894.) A Birthday Remember

John Addington Symonds. (Born 1840—Died 1893.) Farewell

Austin Dobson. (Born 1840.) On a fan that belonged to the Marquis de Pompadour A Rondeau to Ethel

Thomas Hardy. (Born 1840.) The Darkling Thrush

Frederic William Henry Myers. (Born 1843—Died 1901.) Evanescence

Robert Louis Stevenson. (Born 1850—Died 1894.) Wishes Romance

Francis William Bourdillon. (Born 1852.) A Violinist

Edward Cracroft Lefroy. (Born 1855—Died 1891.) Ageanax A Summer in Old Sicily

Douglas Brook Wheelton Sladen. (Born 1856.) Under the Wattle

William Sharp. (Born 1856—Died 1902.) On a nightingale in April

Agnes Mary Frances Duclaux. (Born 1857.) Then, when all the feasting's done

Arthur Symons. (Born 1865.) Rain on the Down

William Butler Yeats. (Born 1865.) Down by the Sally Gardens When you are Old

Richard LeGallienne. (Born 1866.) Song: She's somewhere in the sunlight strong

Alfred Noyes. (Born 1880.) A Japanese Love Song

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

A beautiful and happy girl

Better trust all, and be deceived Bid me to live, and I will live Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing

Celia, confess, 'tis all in vain Chicken skin, delicate, white Choose me your Valentine Come live with me, and be my love Come, O come, my life's delight Cupid and my Campaspe played

Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days Dear voyager, a lucky star be thine Down by the sally gardens Drink to me only with thine eyes

Fair daffodils, we weep to see Fair maid, had I not heard thy baby cries Fair the face of orient day False though she be to me and love Forty Viziers saw I go

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may Gentle love, this hour befriend me Gods, what a sun! I think the world's aglow Go little book, and wish to all Go, lovely rose

Hard is the fate of him who loves Helen, thy beauty is to me Here end my chains, and thraldom cease Her hair, the net of golden wire He that loves a rosy cheek How blest has my time been, what days have I known,

I asked my fair, one happy day I dare not ask a kiss If the quick spirits in your eye If you become a nun, dear I lately vowed, but 'twas in haste I leant upon a coppice gate I loved her for that she was beautiful "In tea-cup times!" The style of dress I pr'y thee send me back my heart I see her in the dewy flowers I saw, I saw the lovely child I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless It is buried and done with It was not in the winter I will confess with cheerfulness I will make your brooches and toys for your delight

Jenny kissed me when we met

Like to the falling of the star Love in thy youth, fair maid, be wise Love guides the roses of thy lips Love not me for comely grace

Maidens kilt your skirts and go My heart is like a singing bird My little pretty one My Phyllis hath the morning sun My true love hath my heart and I have his

Name the leaves on all the trees Night and the down by the sea No more blind god! for see, my heart No show of bolts and bars Now fie on foolish love, it not befits Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white

O fairest of the rural maids! O mark yon Rose-tree! When the West O, Mistress mine, where are you roaming O, to be in England Oh thou that from the green vales of the West Oh, what a plague is love! On a starr'd night. Prince Lucifer uprose Once did my thoughts both ebb and flow Out upon it, I have loved Over the mountains

Remember me when I am gone away

Say, mighty love, and teach my song Send home my long stray'd eyes to me Shall I, wasting in despaire She can be as wise as we She is not fair to outward view She's somewhere in the sunlight strong She was not as pretty as women I know Stone walls do not a prison make Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind The air which thy smooth voice doth break The bee to the heather The clouds, which rise with thunder, slake The lark above our heads doth know The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest The Maid I love ne'er thought of me The yellow moon is a dancing phantom The young moon is white There be none of beauty's daughters There is a garden where lilies There is no friend like an old friend Though cruel fate should bid us part Thou hast beauty bright and fair Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air 'Tis not your beauty can engage Traverse not the globe for lore! Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet?

Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward Unless with my Amanda blest

Venus whipt Cupid t'other day

Were the gray clouds not made What care I tho' beauty fading What shall I send my love today When Delia on the plain appears When love, with unconfined wings When you are old and gray and full of sleep Why should not the wattle do? Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Woman's faith, and woman's trust—

You say I love not, 'cause I do not play

A LITTLE BOOK OF OLD TIME VERSE

Love's Wantonness

Love guides the roses of thy lips, And flies about them like a bee; If I approach he forward skips, And if I kiss he stingeth me.

Love in thine eyes doth build his bower, And sleeps within their pretty shrine, And if I look the boy will lower, And from their orbs shoot shafts divine. —Thomas Lodge

Song

Send home my long-stray'd eyes to me, Which, O! too long have dwelt on thee: But if from you they've learnt such ill, To sweetly smile, And then beguile, Keep the deceivers, keep them still.

Send home my harmless heart again. Which no unworthy thought could stain; But if it has been taught by thine To forfeit both Its word and oath, Keep it, for then 'tis none of mine. —John Donne, D.D.

Fie on Love

Now fie on foolish love, it not befits Or man or woman know it. Love was not meant for people in their wits, And they that fondly show it Betray the straw, and features in their brain, And shall have Bedlam for their pain: If simple love be such a curse, To marry is to make it ten times worse. —Francis Beaumont

A Fragment

He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires; As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away.

But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires; Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes. —Thomas Carew

Truce in Love Entreated

No more, blind god! for see, my heart Is made thy quiver, there remains No void place, for another dart; And, alas! that conquest gains Small praise, that only brings away A tame and unresisting prey.

Behold a nobler foe, all arm'd, Defies thy weak artillery, That hath thy bow and quiver charm'd; A rebel beauty, conquering thee: If thou dar'st equal combat try, Wound her, for 'tis for her I die. —Thomas Carew

Jenny Kissed Me

Jenny kiss'd me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in; Time, you thief, who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in! Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, Say that health and wealth have miss'd me, Say I'm growing old, but add, Jenny kiss'd me. —Leigh Hunt

A Ditty

My true love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange one for the other given: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven: My true love hath my heart, and I have his.

His heart in me, keeps him and me in one, My heart in him, his thought and senses guides; He loves my heart, for once it was his own, I cherish his, because in me it bides: My true love hath my heart, and I have his. —Sir Phillip Sidney

To Electra

I dare not ask a kiss; I dare not beg a smile; Lest having that, or this, I might grow proud the while.

No, no, the utmost share Of my desire shall be, Only to kiss that air That lately kissed thee. —Robert Herrick

To Phyllis, the Fair Shepherdess

My Phyllis hath the morning sun At first to look upon her: And Phyllis hath morn-waking birds Her rising still to honour. My Phyllis hath prime feathered flowers That smile when she treads on them: And Phyllis hath a gallant flock That leaps since she doth own them. But Phyllis hath too hard a heart, Alas, that she should have it! It yields no mercy to desert Nor peace to those that crave it. Sweet Sun, when thou look'st on, Pray her regard my moan! Sweet birds, when you sing to her. To yield some pity woo her! Sweet flowers, that she treads on, Tell her, her beauty dreads one; And if in life her love she'll not agree me. Pray her before I die, she will come see me. —Sir Edward Dyer

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That valleys, groves, and hills, and fields, Woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies: A cap of flowers, and a kirtle, Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we'll pull; Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning. If these delights thy mind may move, Come live with me and be my love. —Christopher Marlowe

Content

Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content, The quiet mind is richer than a crown, Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent, The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown; Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss, Beggars enjoy, when princess oft do miss.

The homely house that harbours quiet rest, The cottage that affords no pride nor care, The mean that 'grees with country music best, The sweet consort of mirth and modest fare, Obscured life sets down a type of bliss; A mind content both crown and kingdom is. —Robert Greene

My Jean

Though cruel fate should bid us part, Far as the pole and line, Her dear idea round my heart Should tenderly entwine. Though mountains rise, and deserts howl, And oceans roar between; Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, I still would love my Jean. —Robert Burns

Sweet Love, I will no more abuse thee, Nor with my voice accuse thee; But tune my notes unto thy praise, And tell the world Love ne'er decays. Sweet Love doth concord ever cherish: What wanteth concord soon must perish. —Thomas Walker

To Celia

Drink to me only with thine eyes. And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be: But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee! —Ben Jonson

Love not me for comely grace, For my pleasing eye or face, Nor for any outward part: No, nor for a constant heart! For these may fail or turn to ill: So thou and I shall sever. Keep therefore a true woman's eye, And love me still, but know not why! So hast thou the same reason still To dote upon me ever. —John Wilkye

To His Mistress

Choose me your Valentine; Next, let us marry; Love to the death will pine If we long tarry.

Promise and keep your vows. Or vow ye never; Love's doctrine disallows Troth-breakers ever.

You have broke promise twice, Dear, to undo me; If you prove faithless thrice, None then will woo ye. —Robert Herrick

The Author's Resolution in a Sonnet

Shall I, wasting in despaire Dye, because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care Cause anothers Rosie are? Be she fairer than the Day Or the flowry Meads in May, If she thinke not well of me, What care I how faire she be?

Shall a woman's Vertues move Me to perish for her love? Or her well deservings knowne Make me quite forget mine own? Be she with that Goodness blest Which may merit name of best: If she be not such to me, What care I how good she be?

Cause her fortunes seem too high Shall I play the fool and die? She that bears a Noble mind, If not outward helpes she find, Think that with them he wold do, That without them dares her woe. And unlesse that Minde I see What care I how great she be?

Great, or Good, or Kind, or Faire, I will ne're the more despaire: If she love me (this believe) I will Die ere she shall grieve, If she slight me when I woe, I can scorne and let her goe, For if she be not for me What care I for whom she be? —George Wither

Song

If the quick spirits in your eye Now languish, and anon must die; If ev'ry sweet and ev'ry grace Must fly from that forsaken face: Then, Celia, let us reap our joys Ere time such goodly fruit destroys.

Or, if that golden fleece must grow For ever, free from aged snow; If those bright suns must know no shade. Nor your fresh beauties ever fade; Then fear not, Celia, to bestow What still being gathered still must grow. Thus, either Time his sickle brings In vain, or else in vain his wings. —Thomas Carew

Love Will Find the Way

Over the mountains And over the waves, Under the fountains And under the graves; Under the floods that are deepest, Which Neptune obey; Over the rocks that are steepest, Love will find out the way.

Where there is no place For the glow-worm to lie; Where there is no space For receipt of a fly; Where the midge dares not venture, Lest herself fast she lay; If Love come, he will enter And soon find out his way.

You may esteem him A child for his might; Or you may deem him A coward for his flight; But if she whom Love doth honour Be concealed from the day, Set a thousand guards upon her, Love will find out the way.

Some think to lose him By having him confin'd, And some do suppose him, Poor thing, to be blind; But if ne'er so close you wall him, Do the best that you may; Blind Love, if so ye call him, Will find out his way.

You may train the eagle To stoop to your fist; Or you may inveigle The Phoenix of the East; The lioness, you may move her To give o'er her prey; But you will ne'er stop a lover— He will find out his way. —Unknown

To Daffodils

Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the lasting day Has run But to the evensong And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along. —Robert Herrick

Phillida Flouts Me

Oh, what a plague is love! I cannot bear it. She will inconstant prove, I greatly fear it; It so torments my mind, That my heart faileth. She wavers with the wind, As a ship saileth; Please her the best I may, She looks another way; Alack and well a-day! Phillida flouts me.