The lamplight seems to glimmer with a flicker of surprise,
As I turn it low to rest me of the dazzle in my eyes,
And light my pipe in silence, save a sigh that seems to yoke
Its fate with my tobacco and to vanish with the smoke.
Tis a fragrant retrospection--for the loving thoughts that start
Into being are like perfume from the blossom of the heart;
And to dream the old dreams over is a luxury divine--
When my truant fancy wanders with that old sweetheart of mine.
Though I hear, beneath my study, like a fluttering of wings,
The voices of my children, and the mother as she sings,
I feel no twinge of conscience to deny me any theme
When Care has cast her anchor in the harbor of a dream.
[Illustration]
In fact, to speak in earnest, I believe it adds a charm
To spice the good a trifle with a little dust of harm--
For I find an extra flavor in Memory's mellow wine
That makes me drink the deeper to that old sweetheart of mine.
A face of lily-beauty, with a form of airy grace.
Floats out of my tobacco as the genii from the vase;
And I thrill beneath the glances of a pair of azure eyes
As glowing as the summer and as tender as the skies.
I can see the pink sunbonnet and the little checkered dress
She wore when first I kissed her and she answered the caress
With the written declaration that, "as surely as the vine
Grew round the stump," she loved me--that old sweetheart of mine.
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