Copyright, 1893, by Bennett G. Pettee.
Words by Bennett G. Pettee. Music by Will Nutting.
It was in the balmy evening when sweet roses filled the air,
And the crescent, silver'd twilight just revealed her features fair,
We were pitting by the window, with her hand within my palm,
And the silence all surrounding lent the place an added charm.
Oh! how pleasant are those evenings that we spend in love's sweet dream;
And may never future 'wak'ning make them different than they seem;
May their mem'ry leave us never, but grow sweeter with each thought,
And show others round about us what sweet comforts love has wrought.
Of shy cupid's fond embracing we would seem to never tire,
And my heart was warm and quiv'ring, warmed by love's most holy fire.
So it seemed no task whatever to pour forth my burning tale,
And to ask the one great question each man hopes will never fail.- Chorus.
Then her answer, as it reached me from her ruby lips, was low.
What it was you may imagine, but it was not cruel "No."
So we married, And our evenings are us pleasant as can be,
But the sweetness of those first ones I expect we'll never see.- Chorus.