From the Omaha Bee, August 28, 1913.
We’ve loved many a beautiful lady,
Golden blonde and the regal brunette,
Sweetest Phyllis with lashes so shady,
And Zoe, the distracting soubrette.
Pretty schoolgirls, small town girls and widows—
With the latter, lovemaking’s an art—
But you ask for a toast and I give you
A toast to your first sweetheart.
There was Sadie, whose lips were saucy,
And Marie, whom you met at the beach,
And the parasol girl, dearest Flossie,
And Irene, always just out of reach;
There were some who liked moonlight and dancing—
What a madness a kiss could impart!
But, ah, for that peppermint-scented
First kiss from your baby sweetheart.
It was long, long ago that you met her
In the blur of the pink cherry trees,
Yet, somehow, you cannot forget her—
Little queen of the bramble-scratched knees;
Sometimes now in your dreams and your fancies
She comes stealing with red lips apart
Down the long lane—o’er memory’s byways—
Your true love—that baby sweetheart.