TIM DOLOR’S SONG
While I may sing my song of woe,
Pray sympathize politely,
And if my tears should start to flow
Oh, do not treat them lightly.
There was a time I loved a maid—
And none of you will doubt it—
But being shy, I was afraid
To tell the maid about it.
I thought that she would surely know,
Or maybe she would guess it,
And seeing that I loved her so,
Would help me to confess it.
Oh, secret love with nameless pain,
And only sighs relieving,
And now and then to hope again
To leave your bosom heaving.
One night I thought I heard a bell;
I walked the street and listened;
The night was cold, the snow that fell
Was colder still and glistened.
It was her wedding bell, I knew;
I did not need to guess it;
Another who had loved her, too,
Had hastened to confess it.
I wandered out into the lane
That led up to her dwelling,
And there I stood—I think insane,
I’m sure, there was no telling.
I saw the guests pass by in glee,
And all of them were laughing,
And every one looked back at me,
And at me seemed a-chaffing.
They mocked at me so light and gay,
I could not seem to doubt it,
I burst in tears and turned away
And never told about it.
It was sad to the dancers, so sad; but the traces
Of unbidden tears disappeared from their faces;
For as Dolor concluded the hound came a prowling
Right under the window and set up a howling,
Which made the sad singer forget his great trouble
And join in the laughter that bent them all double.
“It seems”, said the witling, “that hounds have reverses
And sing like some others their doggerel verses.”
Then Malindy went pouting again, and the wit
To get even, concluded he’d sing for a bit.