5^ 'V''^!^*^^^^^ %^^^'\o^ V'"^1:^'\-?.^' -^ I* ..•• -. ' >^ ..V'. <^x V-^^ i- '^bV^ ^--n^^ ;j >^°^ V ^oV : J>% IP^,. ,^v ^^^ o;^^^NF/ .^^""'^ \^^/ ^^^% ° ■n ■i: 4 ( 4* §? ^ k ^^"^^^ Sweetheart T)r earns of Yesterday T)rawings by Edna Longest ^erse by W. H. Nesbit Ch icago The Charles C. Thompson Co. (Not Inc.) T^ublishers / -%-^^u~-,-f^^ t4 o Q .#>©."' j^ =# Copyright 1909 THE CHARLES C. THOMPSON CO. ( Not Inc. ) CHICAGO ©CI.A2532: /THE REVERIE, xWHO WERE THEY? - THE FIRST LOVE AT THE SHRINE /SWEET SIXTEEN - HER LETTERS - THE VINES THAT BUD - ^ER HAIR - - - - THE DEBUTANTE ■ HER LIPS DREAMING HER FROWN FROM THE BLUE GRASS Contents Continued /THE COUNTRY MAID /WISHES - - - >^THE PLAY IS THE THING .THE HERETIC - THE WIDOW HER VOICE O. PROMISE ME" - / //ij/HER EYES (I I /THE MOTOR MAID -^-w :^ /• 'THE TEAR A GUARDIAN ANGEL / ) \ ' HER CHEEKS ;rHE BELLE OF THE BALL JO THE REAL ONE . .u THE REVERIE Ji Sweetheart T)ream of Long A go- --here in the dim-lit room With all the midnight magic of the shadow -faint perfume That drifts from roses far away, as though it came again, A n echo of the fragrance of the roses that were then. Jlnd now the smoke is wreathing in a Wonder -Wording haze. For through it smile the faces that I k^eW in other days--- The ringlets black ^^ golden, and the epes of brown or blue, The laughing lips and dimpling cheeks of all the girls I kpew, ylh, Well I I muse upon them, and upon the other years I coax again the laughter and the hopings and the fears ; I see again the garden wall, the willows by the brook, The clover nodding by the lane, the little vine-clad nook- So life is worth the living when one k^^ows what jo^s there are Blent in the subtle incense of his friendly^ old cigar-- - The incense that shapes idh) into faces he may see A nd gives him back the gladness of the days that used to be. The Sweetheart Dreams of Long Ago-they may be yours or mine; We loiter in the olden paths where all was fair and fine. Until out of the shadows, making all our pulses stir. There rises for our happiness the flower face of Her! /?■ (ii^ --#-' c^ > WHO WERE THEY 7 So thus I tell them over, the sweethearts I have had ; The fleeting, breath -blow^n kisses ; the moments gay and sad ; The unforgotten sw^eethearts that whisper from the past ; The rare, heart -hidden treasures— the first one, and the last. Who were they } Would you have me know every song's refrain ? Know every dew -dipped clover that nodded in the lane ? A^) ay v^ •\ 4 1 /; THE FIRST LOVE When she was eight and I was ten I think my heart awakened then. An awkward, boyish wooer I, Who knew naught else to do but sigh, But she ---Well, women young or old Know more than sages ever told. Would that we might be back again Where she was eight and I was ten. >Jg « One's sweethearts! One may count them, as though in dreams he stands Where sunlit Past and Future greet him with close-linked hands, May bow his head and name them, as one who would recall Forgotten things, while kneeling at the confessional. ^ ■Jt^ '^^•'' f> M.% 4 r \ HER LETTERS I came upon them yesterday — The letters that she wrote to me, Which I had safely put away Where no o'er-curious eyes might see. Ah, how vain hopes must rise and fall ! How fate may thwart our fond lesigns If she had only written all 1 thought I read between the lines! V 1 V V J. 4^^ . / ^4 "THE VINES THAT BUD" In an old garden, long ago, I whispered something to her cheek; She murmured something soft and low That she was all too shy to speak. And since, the vines that bud and blow Upon that olden garden wall Are gently breathing to and fro An echoed whisper — that is all. i- n '■■■ JSS3«rr^ i M •*» '*^<'. wj '5 > HER HAIR What of her hair? Was it brown or gold? Black ? Or a shimmering auburn tint? Where is the lock that you used to hold Marveling over its glow and glint? Where is it now ? Is it, too, forgot — Lost with the treasured forget-me- not? w \\>. THE DEBUTANTE Her eyes were jas bright And as cold as each jewel, Her voice was as light As her accents were cruel. She answered me "No!" And with smiling she blent it — But she snapped her fan so That I knew that she meant it! m:k 4%.^ ^ }> 4 / ^' 4» HER LIPS Sure, lad, her lips were as red as the roses Blown at the dawning and rinsed in the dew, Sweet as the honey -filled bud that uncloses, Coaxing the bees as a rose-bud can woo ! Never a rose that 1 see but reminds me Of the red lips that would blossom to smiles — Every memory seeks me and finds me Counting the hearts that were lost through her wiles. ^^^h^-r^ ^ dS>*^^ '<3 ./; Who was she ? Did I hold her hand ? And did I slyly steal a kiss? And did I tell her how I'd planned To make her life a dream of bliss ? And did I by the skies above Swear I was meshed in Cupid's spell ? And did I murmur words of love ? Well, now, I promised not to tell ! L A)) F~o rM /^ Lo pM s En S -y iOy ^^&^^^ V. (^1) :>3 /^, .7 y HER FROWN She frowned on me, and forth I went To seek the solace of the world, By gloom's unwieldy burden bent. Into the pit of sorrow hurled. She frowned on me again when 1 Came stolidly back to the town She frowned on me — and this is why Because I fled at her first frown. V 4. f 5> ^M<4^^^^^ 4C^ m ^\,' FROM THE BLUE GRASS Down the road and up the road all in the sunny weather, Up the road and down the road we galloped on together Until at last the cross-roctds came all on a gloomy day And out upon another path she turned and rode away, X 17%^ n -.; \ J Sll i: 9^ ^^ B '•«»«&■ 4^ I r \, \ / HER SMILE Sure, do ye know the smile of her? 'Tis but another wile of her, To tangle hearts and dangle hearts as victims of her charms ! But who would be afraid of her, dis- couraged or dismayed of her } All sunny -sweet and honey -sweet, her smiles give no alarms. / -^^ PC .<*^. i <5^ J <^ ^ ^ IN AUTUMN And once in somber autumn, the time of seed and husk, We two sat near together and watched the creeping dusk That faltered through the hazes where incense -smoke was hung — The smoke at autumn's altar from sum- mer's censer swung. And where is she? Ah, question of all the yesterdays If they have taken note of all who watched the autumn's haze. '-*!;^^ -^l K / THE DINNER The day we dined together All sunny was the weather ; She wore a wondrous gown, and in her hat a nodding feather ; And care had sHpped its tether — But what we ate, or whether We ate at all, I do not know. I know we dined together ! .^ ^rctf; »?#' f 4 f i ( \.- ^ % >^^^t ei HER FEET All things were sweet of her — Ah, but the feet of her ! Light as a thistledown blown on the breeze. Lad, when her merry feet danced *twas like fairy feet Treading to music in magical keys. Little she cared at all whom she ensnared at all, Little she recked of the pang and the smart. Sure, all was sweet of her — Ah, but the feet of her Danced through my life as they trod on my heart ! < L %^ My Golf Girl ! Times I dream of her Above my pipe, a poor old fogy. All earnest though my pleadings were I could not beat ■A^iS$iAi' >--^5 W^' m .V (:^j 4 / S 1^ HER HAND It is so very white and small One cannot understand at all How it could be so great a prize As truly it is in my eyes, Nor how, and with such cunning art. Relentlessly it holds my heart. u \ \ ( IN THE SPOT LIGHT This is in confidence: Long, long ago I sat and worshiped her from the front row. Thought her entrancing And vowed that her dancing Rivaled the music in rhythmical flow. ft} / ^^;--^^^^^ i-\ A BROTHER A sister she Will be to me, And so with joy I greet her — I always kiss My pretty sis Each time I chance to meet her. / h. c ■^t^^%^.r J ^\A. V^HERE THE ROLLING TIDE COMES IN One summer when she ruled the beach She charmed me with her smile and speech ; She vowed eternal faith to me That summer there beside the sea. X My y / A GLIMPSE The day that it was raining She came along the street And all the little raindrops ran To dance about her feet. And though she walks the city's ways Or clover-tangled lane, The folk that look upon her see The sunshine in the rain. A J'Z. THE COUNTRY MAID A melody that murmurs as softly as a hymn Where cloisters all are silent and stately aisles are dim Is this that I am breathing, while once again they fade — The light and shadow showing my little country maid. Heartsease and honeysuckle, and fields where flowers stir In answer to the zephyrs, hold memories of her. J ^ Vi ^x^ w. ^ fV ^j -p .'V \j^ ^ y 1^ WISHES There was a flower in her hair — I wished that it were I, A bracelet on her wrist so fair — To have its place I'd sigh. And on the day she was a bride One more wish came from me Another man stood at her side And I could not be he. f t':" -v>y.:> .--e ^ f 4 ^ X \ i' THE HERETIC Through dim -lit aisles the people throng And I come with them, bowed of head And harking to the holy song And to the prayers that are said, But, wicked though it be, I say My heart would very much prefer Some not -so-crowded shrine today — A worshiper, I worship her! A /I V %:, f <^X* >^S4il^3loT5, /^ The widow with the haunting eyes Once grieved me with her grieving And interrupted with her sighs The fancies I was weaving. Yet, viewing her as one who heeds The charm of sun and shower, I never saw so many weeds Surround so fair a flower. l&^" ^■i'f i vlk* (.. 1^ HER VOICE In dreams I hear her singing the old songs, down the way, The songs of haunting music, sweet as the breath of May ; Songs lilting with her laughter, that bubbled out and shook, As light as spray that silvered the ripples of the brook. The magic of the melody that held me overlong Until my heart-strings quivered in an echo of her song! ■^^&<:§^- J^\ ^ «=:!:_ ^,^ O. PROMISE ME" Out of the dreaming haze Her face appears to me, A maid of nights and days She always seemed to be. The dawn and twilight skies Were ever pictured there — The dusk was in her eyes, The dawn was in her hair. 1 I J^D IN .^ |_o M (3 e: • .€^ i: :r^^ iy^' Ia^ r^- ^ V: ^ ^ c^ THE TEAR There was a tear upon her cheek — Whether from pity or from grief I had not then the mind to seek; I only saw a pink rose leaf Upon whose surface was a gleam Reflecting all its fairy hue; The little tear could only seem A laughter -coaxing drop of dew. 4 W \.-j i ) t^ i fee -.-,j^' ^/' A GUARDIAN ANGEL She soothed my weary, aching brow. She quieted my fevered pains And I then made a solemn vow She might lead me in Cupid's chains. But she, with all her gentle lore And knowledge of the healing art Bade me to talk of that no more --- She said she could not treat the heart. rtf a^ >fe^^ 4 s? f HER CHEEKS In olden days the poets would Write blithe ballade and sonnet To Her Fair Cheek — 'twas understood They thus should write upon it. But though I fain would write such rhyme I fear I am too simple. I know I could not find the time To go beyond her dimple. ^c THE BELLE OF THE BALL We called it but a masquerade But I can never quite forget The melody that swept and swayed The while we danced the minuet. She did not know, or did not care, That with her graceful, girlish art While dancing to the music there She trod each time upon my heart. l^r*C> \ •^^ C A, N^l / •y Vi rr; w 4 ^ ^^ e.. / - 1 \ TO THE REAL ONE Here's to you, the fairest, The sweetest and the rarest, Of all the girls in all the world, to you who are the best. The truest and the nearest, The lea lest and the dearest — The only one whose many charms made me forget the rest. 'f) 4 L I ^ ^ ff ^ _,^". ^^..^^ o^Mfe:-. \..r ^'^ v-^^ ♦ aV "^>. . <* *'TV ^"-^^^ .^^"-, ''^<^' :'m^- ^o>'' i'^M'. '-^t-o^' :m^'' ''ov*' f"^^^-. -^--o^ .