Monday, November 25, 2013

"To My Lady, or, The Building of the Poem" by A. W. Bellaw (1888)

To My Lady,

OR, THE BUILDING OF THE POEM.


Sweetheart, your tender eyes

Are heaven's realities;

(Prize......hies......pies.....lies)

What hope within them lies!


Love grew in their love light

As stars grow on the night,

(Slight......fight......tight......bright)

And all my life grew bright.


To you my spirit leans,

I know what worship means,

(Queens......greens......leans......scenes)

What cheers these earthly scenes.


When on my ear first broke

Your voice, an angel spoke.

(Joke......broke......poke......yoke)

Then fell on me the yoke.


I would that you were near

My beating heart to hear,

(Jeer......bier......sincere)

And know my love sincere.

                        —A. W. Bellaw, in Time.

Buffalo Courier. September 9, 1888: 12 col 5.

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