THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE "SOMEWHERE," he mused, "its dear enchantments wait, That land, so heavenly sweet; Yet all the paths we follow, soon or late, End in the desert's heat. "And still it lures us to the eager quest, And calls us day by day" "But I," she said, her babe upon her breast, "But I have found the way." "Some time," he sighed, "when youth and joy are spent, Our feet the gates may win" "But I," she smiled, with eyes of deep content, "But I have entered in." Emily Huntington Miller [1833-1913] MY AIN WIFE I WADNA gi'e my ain wife I wadna gi'e my ain wife A bonnier yet I've never seen, A better canna be I wadna gi'e my ain wife O couthie is my ingle-cheek, Nor hear her word on ane. She's gude wi' a' the neebors roun' I wadna gi'e my ain wife An' O her looks sae kindlie, They melt my heart outright, When o'er the baby at her breast She hangs wi' fond delight; The Irish Wife She looks intill its bonnie face, I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see. 1207 Alexander Laing [1787-1857] THE IRISH WIFE I WOULD not give my Irish wife For all the dames of the Saxon land; I would not give my Irish wife For the Queen of France's hand; For she to me is dearer Than castles strong, or lands, or life. An outlaw so I'm near her To love till death my Irish wife. O what would be this home of mine, I knew the law forbade the banns; Must bow before their ladies' grace. I cannot wage with kinsmen strife: Take knightly gear and noble name, And I will keep my Irish wife. My Irish wife has clear blue eyes, My heaven by day, my stars by night;" And twin-like truth and fondness lies Within her swelling bosom white. My Irish wife has golden hair, I would not give my Irish wife For all the dames of the Saxon land; Than castles strong, or lands, or life: In death I would be near her, And rise beside my Irish wife. Thomas D'Arcy McGee [1825-1868] MY WIFE'S A WINSOME WEE THING SHE is a winsome wee thing, This sweet wee wife o' mine. I never saw a fairer, I never lo'ed a dearer, And niest my heart I'll wear her, For fear my jewel tine. She is a winsome wee thing, This sweet wee wife o' mine. The warld's wrack we share o't, The warsle and the care o't: Wi' her I'll blithely bear it, And think my lot divine. LETTICE Robert Burns [1759-1796] I SAID to Lettice, our sister Lettice, While drooped and glistened her eyelash brown, "Your man's a poor man, a cold and dour man, There's many a better about our town." "If Thou Wert by My Side" 1209 She smiled securely-"He loves me purely: A true heart's safe, both in smile or frown; And nothing harms me while his love warms me, Whether the world go up or down." "He comes of strangers, and they are rangers, No harsh tongue grieves me while he believes me, "Your man's a frail man, was ne'er a hale man, And sickness knocketh at every door, And death comes making bold hearts cower, breaking-" Our Lettice trembled;-but once, no more. "If death should enter, smite to the center Our poor home palace, all crumbling down, He cannot fright us, nor disunite us, Life bears Love's cross, death brings Love's crown." Dinah Maria Mulock Craik [1826-1887] "IF THOU WERT BY MY SIDE, MY LOVE” If thou wert by my side, my love, How fast would evening fail If thou, my love, wert by my side, How gayly would our pinnace glide I miss thee at the dawning gray, I miss thee when by Gunga's stream But most beneath the lamp's pale beam I spread my books, my pencil try, But when at morn and eve the star I feel, though thou art distant far, Then on! then on! where duty leads, O'er broad Hindostan's sultry meads, O'er bleak Almorah's hill. That course nor Delhi's kingly gates, For sweet the bliss us both awaits By yonder western main. Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, they say, Across the dark blue sea; But ne'er were hearts so light and gay As then shall meet in thee! Reginald Heber [1783-1826] THE SHEPHERD'S WIFE'S SONG From "The Mourning Garment " Ан, what is love? It is a pretty thing, And sweeter, too: |