Peggy's Letter"It's up we'll get!"
Cried Nurse Jeannette,
"To feel the sun a-warming.
St. Valentine
Will feast and dine,
And bring you something charming."
Then dressed they fast
In ruffles vast
This best of little creatures
But at the pane
She watched in vain,
And ah, the sorry features!
His laughter done,
The sober sun
Behind a cloud went straying.
A heavy snow
Began to blow;
The boys ran in from playing.
"T will be here yet,"
Said Nurse Jeannette,
"Perhaps at noon, my deary,"
The postman passed,
In snow and blast,
And May's blue eyes were teary.
"It's dark and wet,"
Said Nurse Jeannette,
"St. Valentine is groping;
So May, my dear,
Wipe off that tear,
And don't you give up hoping!"
When twilight came,
The little dame
Still peeped from out the curtain.
The sleet came pelt!
She was, she felt,
Forgotten now, for certain.
But candleshine
Brought Valentine --
A valentine so rosy!
Nor dreamed the miss
'T would look like this,
Surpassing song or posy.
She jumped for joy:
A baby boy
Lay blinking up to greet her.
A brother! May,
You darling, say
What valentine were sweeter?
-- Agness Lee
I'm notified, fair neighbor mine,
By one of our profession,
That this -- the Term of Valentine --
Is Cupid's Special Session.
Permit me therefore to report
Myself on this occasion,
Quite ready to proceed to Court,
And File my Declaration.
I've an Attachment for you, too;
A legal and a strong one;
O, yield unto the Process, do;
Nor let it be a long one!
No scowling bailiff lurks behind;
He'd be a precious noddy,
Who, failing to Arrest the mind,
Should go and take the Body!
For though a form like yours might throw
A sculptor in distraction;
I couldn't serve a Capias -- no --
I 'd scorn so base an Action!
O do not tell me of your youth,
And turn away demurely;
For though you're very young, in truth,
You're not an Infant, surely!
The Case is everything to me;
My heart is love's own tissue;
Don't plead a Dilatory Plea;
Let's have the General Issue!
Or, -- since you've really no defence,
Why not, this present Session,
Omitting all absurd pretence,
Give judgment by Confession?
So shall you be my loving wife
And I -- your faithful lover
Be Tenant of your heart for Life,
With no Remainder over.
-- John Godfrey Saxe
O Princess, what shall I bring
To offer before thy throne?
For I know of no joyous thing
That is not already thine own.
Youth and beauty and love
Desirest thou more than these?
Lo, from the skies above
And from far away mystical seas,
All things radiant and rare
All things tender and sweet,
Hasten, O Princess fair,
To fall in delight at thy feet.
So, Princess, what shall I bring,
When low I bend at thy throne?
"My heart for an offering,"
E'en that has been long thine own.
-- Eugene Field
Great Antony, I drink to thee,
The Roman lover bold,
Who knew the worth of love and earth
And gave the dross for gold.
Rich Antony, I envy thee,
Who hadst a world to stake,
And, win or lose, didst bravely choose
To risk it for Her sake.
Poor Antony, I pity thee,
So small a world was thine
I'd scorn to lay the prize to-day
Before my Valentine!
-- James Jeffrey Roche
This day was sacred, once, to Pan,
And kept with song and wine;
But when our better creed began
'T was held no more divine,
Until there came a holy man,
One Bishop Valentine.
He, finding, as all good men will
Much in the ancient way
That was not altogether ill,
Restored the genial day;
And we the pagan fashion still
With pious hearts obey.
Without this custom, all would go
Amiss in Love's affairs,
All passion would be poor dumb show,
Pent sighs, and secret prayers;
And bashful maids would never know
What timid swain was theirs.
Ah! many things with mickle pains
Without reward are done,
A thousand poets rack their brains
For her who loves but one;
Yea, many weary with their strains
The nymph that cares for none.
Yet, should no faithful heart be faint
To give affection's sign:
So, dearest, let mine own acquaint
With its emotion -- thine;
And blessings on that fine old Saint,
Good Bishop Valentine !
-- Thomas Williams Parsons
She that is fair, though never vain or proud,
More fond of home, than fashion's changing
crowd;
Whose taste refined even female friends admire,
Dressed not for show, but robed in neat attire;
She who has learned, with mild, forgiving
breast,
To pardon frailties, hidden or confest;
True to herself, yet willing to submit,
More swayed by love than ruled by worldly
wit;
Though young, discreet, -- though ready, ne'er
unkind,
Blessed with no pedant's, but a Woman's
mind; --
She wins our hearts, toward her our thoughts
incline,
So at her door go leave my Valentine.
-- James T. Fields
Baby came toddling up to my knee,
His chubby features all aglow,
"Dess I'se doin' to be 'oor beau,
See what oo' dot from me!"
A valentine from my baby boy!
A crumpled sheet and a homely scrawl,
In a baby hand -- that was all --
Yet it filled my heart with joy.
Broken my heart and white my hair,
And my mother's eyes are used to weep;
My little boy is fast asleep
In the churchyard over there.
What shall be mamma's valentine? --
The spirit touch of the baby hand,
A baby voice from the spirit land
Singing a song divine.
-- Eugene Field
The wise forget, dear heart;
They leave the past
And play the hero's part
Brave to the last.
They weep not nor regret,
Calm are their eyes.
Dear heart, the wise forget.
I am not wise.
-- Jeannette Bliss Glllespy
Motherkin mine, are you fond of me, dear?
Do you really and honestly love me, I pray?
Throw me a kiss, for St. Valentine's here!
Are you sorry I'm so far away from you here?
Do you miss me a little, on Valentine's day?
Motherkin mine, are you fond of me, dear?
Though it come with a smile or it come with
a tear,
I '11 know what you mean (though you'll
try to be gay),
Throw me a kiss, for St. Valentine's here!
Ah, that one has reached me, so be of good
cheer--
(There's another for you, that is now on
the way)
Motherkin mine, are you fond of me, dear?
Ah, Motherkin, though you're a woman, 'tis
clear
There's one thing that you can throw
straight, I must say!
Throw me a kiss, for St. Valentine's here!
Oh! all of the girls will be jealous, I fear --
I'll none of their kisses, with you I would
play!
Motherkin mine, are you fond of me, dear?
Throw me a kiss, for St. Valentine 's here!
-- Gelett Burgess
Yonge Love, a playing in faire Celia's haire,
Became entangled in a golden snare,
And tearful vowed if she would sette him free
He'd paye ye ransome, whatso'er it be.
She loosed his lyght wings from ye twisted
tress,
And off he fluttered, free but weaponless;
For Celia tooke his quiver and swift bowe
For ransome, ere she lette ye rascal goe.
More mercilesse than Cupid, Celia is,
Clear-eyed, she shoots with surer aim than his;
And, if ye quiver fail not, as we praye,
Noe man shall live, but beares a wounde awaye.
-- William Lindsay
Wan, wind-wracked month, of all the months
most bare
Of outward beauty or of inward grace;
Reserved of ancient custom to efface
By sacrificial offering, whate'er
Of taint was held to be the whole year's share:
One day, at least, thy cold, gray arms embrace,
That serves to set a dimple in thy face
And by its fairness make the rest more fair:
The happy day when birds begin to woo,
And win fond mates, to bless the tiny nest,
Already modelled in the tinier breast;
The happy day in which, sweet heart, for you,
A rosier tint o'erspreads this breast of mine,
Sending its message through Saint Valentine.
-- Mary Barker Dodge
My Valentine's a page of gold,
Upon it by the morning light
I trace new hopes and fancies bright,
So sweetly is the story told,
That old, old story, yet so new,
A little song of love, a voice
That bids my faltering soul rejoice,
A promise to be ever true;
O love, sweet love, this honest heart
Unknown to coquetry or art,
Hath sworn fidelity to you.
And to my trustful heart I press
My valentine, with fond caress.
But still as sweetly as of old,
And now the long, long years have fled,
1 read the treasured sheet of gold.
What tho' my love, alas! be dead
And as I read from yonder skies
An angel with a radiant crown
Comes to my lovely chamber down
And bids me dry my streaming eyes.
So in the soft declining day
I think of him who 's far away,
Whose body in the churchyard lies.
And to my broken heart I press
My valentine, with fond caress.
-- Eugene Field
Her kiss is warm upon my cheek,
She is not coy nor shy;
Her arms were clinging round my neck
When she bade me good-bye.
She whispers soft her love for me,
And I tell her of mine;
Sweetheart, no other maid could be
So dear a Valentine.
She loves me more than all the world;
Yet sadly I foresee,
As time rolls on, some other swain
May be preferred to me.
Were she sixteen, instead of three,
This little Daughter mine,
Another's vows might prove more dear
Than Papa's Valentine.
-- Walter Learned
Awake, awake, O gracious heart,
There's some one knocking at the door;
The chilling breezes make him smart;
His little feet are tired and sore.
Arise, and welcome him before
Adown his cheeks the big tears start:
Awake, awake, O gracious heart,
There's some one knocking at the door.
'T is Cupid come with loving art
To honour, worship, and implore:
And lest, unwelcomed, he depart
With all his wise mysterious lore,
Awake, awake, O gracious heart,
There 's some one knocking at the door.
-- Frank Dempster Sherman
To her whose heart has made her lovely face
A Heaven for its sweet roses; her whose grace
Of thought and word and deed forever seems
The light of some sweet angel in her soul,
Stealing from Heaven in still, half conscious
dreams:
Go, little Doves, and bear this gentle scroll
(Bearing my heart) to her-- ah, if she smiles,
You need not tell: I'd know it a thousand
miles!
Go, little Doves, to her for whom I pine
And softly whisper: " Here's your Valentine."
-- John James Piatt
Lavish Nature's hands bestow
Meadows full of daisies;
Shelley's lark-song, Herrick's dew,
Keats' flower-fragrant mazes.
Gather all within a dream,
Admire them and ponder,
Yet your treasures will not seem
Half so great a wonder
As my love's rich charms that shine
In my verse -- Her Valentine!
-- William Stanley Braithwaite
Source: Research & text by Bryan Wright
