A SONG FOR MY LOVE TO SING.
Copyright, 1892, by Willis Woodward & Co.
by Walter P. Keen.
An author sat in his room one night, where he had sat for long;
And counted time and measured rhyme to write another song!
He searched the realms of fancy-land to find a worthy theme;
For hours he sat as patiently as if in peaceful dream.
At last he saw a picture that was hanging from above-
The picture of a maiden fair, the portrait of his love;
He cried in sudden ecstasy, I've found the very thing;
I'll write a song, a simple song, a song for my love to sing.
A song for my love to sing, it shall not be of sorrow,
That will her tear-drops wring when she reads it to-morrow;
The melody must be as sweet as the rippling of the rill,
And if she says "I love you!" her voice will be sweeter still.
He hummed each tune that fancy weaved, of love so pure and true;
Each tender strain he tried again, but not a one would do.
Oh, muse of mine I pray thee now to well perform thy part;
Inspire me with a melody to come from out my heart.
But vainly did he ponder, for no theme would him suffice;
He cried, I cannot write a strain full worthy of her voice!
He yielded when again he saw her picture there above;
Then said, of songs there's none so sweet as the gentle voice of love.- Cho.