Category: The Birmingham Age-Herald

From The Birmingham Age Herald, March 10, 1914.

There’s a bloom upon her beauty
    In her old dreams there,
In the corner by the window
    In her old arm chair.
There is snow upon the ringlets
    That were golden in a day
Ere the dreams were like the roses
    That the years blow away.

There’s a glow of something lovely
    In her person as of old,
And the tune her lips are crooning
    Is as bright as virgin gold.
There’s a twinkle in her eyes yet,
    And upon her lips a gleam,
As she sits beside the window,
    In her old, old dream.

Ah, little snowy lady,
    Would that time might never know
A moment you must vanish
    As the dust the breezes blow.
For it’s such a gift of beauty
    To behold you sitting there,
In the old dreams by the window
    In your old arm chair.

From The Birmingham Age Herald, February 4, 1914.

The sunset bells had ceased their song;
    The sunset fires had gone,
And twilight, falling from the stars,
    Fell on us two alone.
Soft, undulating waves of grain
    Beneath the mountain’s crest
Lay as a mesh of silken lace
    Upon a sobbing breast.

The golden peaks just glorified
    Grew somber, sad and sear;
The whippoorwills began their flight,
    Yet I still lingered there.
For fairer than the roses wild
    And purer than each star
Was she who lingered by my side,
    Dear Nellie of Kelmar.

With passion deep my lips were fraught
    And breathed my bosom’s cry;
Then softer than the dying day
    Her answer was a sigh.
Oh bliss, oh rapture, treasured sweets,
    Of love dream void of pain;
I’d give my life, my soul, my all
    To live that hour again.

From The Birmingham Age Herald, January 20, 1914.

From Africa’s bejeweled sands,
    From Norskland’s frozen chambers
I sought a gem as crystal soft
    As pure as tear-born ambers.

From Valambrosa’s storied sweets,
    From El Dorado’s treasures
I sought the diadem of life
    Quintessences of pleasures.

From Arcady, from sunny Spain,
    From lands of golden hue
I sought the precious things of earth
    And found them all in you.

From The Birmingham Age Herald, January 11, 1914. 

Some people say that summer is the only time to walk,
Or be outdoors, but Pop and me we don’t believe such talk;
Why we go out the coldest days and tramp an hour or two,
And we see lots and lots of things that stay-homes never do.

For if the trees are brown and bare and all the flowers are dead,
The woods are full of evergreens and berries bright and red;
And crows are flying round the fields and calling far and loud,
Or gathering in the tree-tops like a big convention crowd.

And rabbits run across the road and scamper off so shy,
Or maybe squirrels on some high limb peep at us quick and sly;
And when the wind blows ‘round the hill the leaves fly everywhere,
Or whirl off like a flock of birds upon the frosty air.

And if when we’re a-walking out it should begin to snow,
We button up and hike along till we are all aglow;
And when we get back home again we look so fresh an’ strong,
That folks say, “My but you look fine—I wish I’d went along.”