How Many Years Ago?

How many years ago, love,
Since you came courting me?
Through oak-tree wood and o'er the lea,
With rosy cheeks and waistcoat gay,
And mostly not a word to say,--
How many years ago, love,
How many years ago?

How many years ago, love,
Since you to Father spoke?
Between your lips a sprig of oak:
You were not one with much to say,
But Mother spoke for you that day,--
How many years ago, love,
How many years ago?

So many years ago, love,
That soon our time must come
To leave our girl without a home;--
She's like her mother, love, you've said:
--At her age I had long been wed,--
How many years ago, love,
How many years ago?

For love of long-ago, love,
If John has aught to say,
When he comes up to us to-day,
(A likely lad, though short of tongue,)
Remember, husband, we were young,--
How many years ago, love,
How many years ago?

Juliana Horatia Ewing

Juliana Horatia Ewing was an English writer of children's stories, known for her pioneering work in the genre. Born on August 3, 1841, she was the daughter of Margaret Gatty, herself a noted British writer. Juliana's works were marked by their imaginative quality and their combination of adventure and moral lessons, making significant contributions to children's literature of the Victorian era. Her acclaimed works include 'Jackanapes,' 'Daddy Darwin's Dovecot,' and 'The Story of a Short Life.' She passed away on May 13, 1885.

Juliana Horatia Ewing

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Juliana Horatia Ewing, Simple Poetry

A Hero To His Hobby-Horse.

Juliana Horatia Ewing, Simple Poetry

House-Building And Repairs.

Juliana Horatia Ewing, Simple Poetry

Little Master To His Big Dog.

Juliana Horatia Ewing, Simple Poetry

English

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Ages Ago

Launcelot loved Guinevere,
Ages and ages ago,
Beautiful as a bird was she,
Preening its wings in a cypress tree,
Happy in sadness, she and he,
They loved each other so.

Helen of Troy was beautiful
As tender flower in May,
Her loveliness from the towers looked down,
With the sweet moon for silver crown,
Over the walls of Troy Town,
Hundreds of years away.

Cleopatra, Egypt's Queen,
Was wondrous kind to ken,
As when the stars in the dark sky
Like buds on thorny branches lie,
So seemed she too to Antony,
That age-gone prince of men.

The Pyramids are old stones,
Scarred is that grey face,
That by the greenness of Old Nile
Gazes with an unchanging smile,
Man with all mystery to beguile
And give his thinking grace.

Walter De La Mare

Geraldine, Geraldine

Geraldine, Geraldine,
Do you remember where
The willows used to screen
The water flowing fair?
The mill-stream's banks of green
Where first our love begun,
When you were seventeen,
And I was twenty-one?

Geraldine, Geraldine,
Do you remember how
From th' old bridge we would lean
The bridge that's broken now
To watch the minnows sheen,
And the ripples of the Run,
When you were seventeen,
And I was twenty-one?

Geraldine, Geraldine
Do you remember too
The old beech-tree, between
Whose roots the wild flowers grew?
Where oft we met at e'en,
When stars were few or none,
When you were seventeen,
And I was twenty-one?

Geraldine, Geraldine,
The bark has grown around
The names I cut therein,
And the...

Madison Julius Cawein

To Julia!

1.

Julia! since far from you I've rang'd,
Our souls with fond affection glow not;
You say 'tis I, not you have chang'd,
I'd tell you why, - but yet I know not.

2.

Your polish'd brow, no cares have crost,
And Julia! we are not much older,
Since trembling first my heart I lost,
Or told my love with hope, grown bolder.

3.

Sixteen was then our utmost age,
Two years have lingering pass'd away, love!
And now new thoughts our minds engage,
At least, I feel disposed to stray, love!

4.

'Tis I, that am alone to blame,
I, that am guilty of love's treason;
Since your sweet breast, is still the same,
Caprice must be my only reason.

5.

I do not, love, suspect your truth,
With jealous doubt m...

George Gordon Byron

Twenty Years Ago

'Twas in the flush of summer-time,
    Some twenty years or more,
When Ernest lost his way, and crossed
    The threshold of our door.
I'll ne'er forget his locks of jet,
    His brow of Alpine snow,
His manly grace of form and face,
    Some twenty years ago.

The hand he asked I freely gave--
    Mine was a happy lot,
In all my pride to be his bride
    Within my father's cot.
The faith he spoke he never broke:
    His faithful heart I know;
And well I vow I love him now
    As twenty years ago.

George Pope Morris

The Long Ago.

    O life has its seasons joyous and drear,
    Its summer sun and its winter snow,
    But the fairest of all, I tell you, dear,
    Was the sweet old spring of the long ago -
            The ever and ever so long ago -

    When we walked together among the flowers,
    When the world with beauty was all aglow.
    O the rain and dew! O the shine and showers
    Of the sweet old spring of the long ago!
            The ever and ever so long ago.

    A hunger for all of the past delight
    Is stirred by the winds that softly blow.
    Can you spare me a thought from heaven to-night
    For the sweet old spring of the long ago? -
            The ever and ever so long ago.

Jean Blewett

Julie-Jane

Sing; how 'a would sing!
How 'a would raise the tune
When we rode in the waggon from harvesting
By the light o' the moon!

Dance; how 'a would dance!
If a fiddlestring did but sound
She would hold out her coats, give a slanting glance,
And go round and round.

Laugh; how 'a would laugh!
Her peony lips would part
As if none such a place for a lover to quaff
At the deeps of a heart.

Julie, O girl of joy,
Soon, soon that lover he came.
Ah, yes; and gave thee a baby-boy,
But never his name . . .

- Tolling for her, as you guess;
And the baby too . . . 'Tis well.
You knew her in maidhood likewise? - Yes,
That's her burial bell.

"I suppose," with a laugh, she said,
"I should blush that I'm not a wife;
But how ...

Thomas Hardy