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Three Women - My love is young, so young
_My love is young, so young;Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note._
_Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day._
_Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love._
_Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where lone, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest._
_Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.
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I. A dull little station, a man with the eyeA dull little station, a man with the eye Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by; A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun, The curtain goes up, and our play is begun. The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife, Which always is billed for the theatre Life. It runs on forever, from year unto year, With scarcely a change when new actors appear. It is old as the world is--far older in truth, For the world is a
Three Women - 1. A Dull Little Station, A Man With The Eye
I. A dull little station, a man with the eyeA dull little station, a man with the eye Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by; A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun, The curtain goes up, and our play is begun. The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife, Which always is billed for the theatre Life. It runs on forever, from year unto year, With scarcely a change when new actors appear. It is old as the world is--far older in truth, For the world is a
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BOOK IV Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse! O first-born on the mountains! by the hues Of heaven on the spiritual air begot: Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot, While yet our England was a wolfish den; Before our forests heard the talk of men; Before the first of Druids was a child;-- Long didst thou sit amid our regions wild Rapt in a deep prophetic solitude. There came an eastern voice of solemn mood:--
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BOOK IV Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse! O first-born on the mountains! by the hues Of heaven on the spiritual air begot: Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot, While yet our England was a wolfish den; Before our forests heard the talk of men; Before the first of Druids was a child;-- Long didst thou sit amid our regions wild Rapt in a deep prophetic solitude. There came an eastern voice of solemn mood:--
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PREVIOUS 10 BOOKS
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RANDOM 10 BOOKS
- Three Women - 1. A Dull Little Station, A Man With The Eye
- Three Women - 2. The Short-Sighted Minister Preached At Bay Bend
- Three Women - 3. Maurice Somerville From His Turreted Den
- Three Women - 4. The October Day Had Been Luscious And Fair
- Three Women - 5. In A Bare Little Room Of A Tenement Row
- Three Women - 6. Wooed, Wedded And Widowed Ere Twenty. The Life
- Three Women - 10. A Man Whose Mere Name Was Submerged In The Sea
- Three Women - 11. Ruth's Letter To Maurice, Six Months Later
- Three Women - 12. Maurice's Letter To Ruth
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