BECAUSE!
“Why? Because.”—Lindley Murray.
Sweet Nea!—for your lovely sake
I weave these rambling numbers,
Because I’ve lain an hour awake,
And can’t compose my slumbers;
Because your beauty’s gentle light
Is round my pillow beaming,
And flings, I know not why, to-night,
Some witchery o’er my dreaming!
Because we’ve passed some joyous days,
And danced some merry dances;
Because you love old Beaumont’s plays,
And old Froissart’s romances!
Because, whene’er I hear your words,
Some pleasant feeling lingers;
Because I think your heart has chords
That vibrate to my fingers!
Because you’ve got those long, soft curls
I’ve sworn should deck my goddess;
Because you’re not, like other girls,
All bustle, blush, and bodice!
Because your eyes are deep and blue,
Your fingers long and rosy;
Because a little child and you
Would make one’s home so cosy!
Because your little tiny nose
Turns up so pert and funny;
Because I know you choose your beaux
More for their mirth than money;
Because I think you’d rather twirl
A waltz, with me to guide you,
Than talk small nonsense with an Earl,
And a coronet beside you!
Because you don’t object to walk,
And are not given to fainting;
Because you have not learned to talk
Of flowers and Poonah-painting;
Because I think you’d scarce refuse
To sew one on a button;
Because I know you’d sometimes choose
To dine on simple mutton!
Because I think I’m just so weak
As, some of those fine morrows,
To ask you if you’ll let me speak
My story—and my sorrows:
Because the rest’s a simple thing,
A matter quickly over,
A church—a priest—a sigh—a ring—
And a chaise-and-four for Dover!
SONG TO A SERENADER IN FEBRUARY.
Air—“Why hast thou taught me to love thee?”
Dear minstrel, the dangers are not to be told
Of those strains which have trebly undone me,—
A victim to pity, to love, and to cold,
I’ll be dead by the time thou hast won me!