Tag: Samuel Minturn Peck

From The Birmingham Age Herald, June 23, 1913.
 By Samuel Minturn Peck.
 

 “I cannot answer yes,” quoth she,
     As I knelt down to sue;
 “One heart is not enough, you see,
     For all who come to woo.”
 
 “Alas!” I cried, “my fate is rough!”
     Then flashed a thought profound:
 “Still - though you have not hearts enough -
     I’ve arms to go around!”

From The Birmingham Age-Herald, May 15, 1913.
 By Samuel Minturn Peck.
 

 There was a little woman flower
     Sweeter far than all
 The violets and the daffodils
     That come at Springtime’s call.
 
 All the blossoms loved her,
     Even the happy birds;
 They piped their little hearts to her
     Because they had no words.
 
 ’Tis spring again. The skies are blue;
     Blossoms and birds I see
 But the little flower maiden—
     Oh tell me where is she!
 
 The sorrowing Wind low-answered:
     “Flower, and bird, and fern,
 And in the year, the autumn leaf—
     They only may return.”
 
 “’Tis true, tis true, O Wind,” I sighed,
     “Tis bitter, too, alack:
 In life what we love most and lose
     Can nevermore come back.”

From The Birmingham Age-Herald, May 7, 1913.
 By Samuel Minturn Peck.
 

 Tho’ starlight through the lattice vine
     Fell slanting on her brow
 The roses white, with dew a-shine
     Swayed on the wind-rocked bough
 And waved a perfume quaint and fine
     Like incense round her mouth
 Where dwelt mid curve and hue divine
     The glamor of the South.
         Just sixteen years of joys and fears—
             Just sixteen years hath she
                 But her eyes are blue
                 And her heart is true
             And she’s all the world to me.
 
 The rose tree hid the stars from me
     But I could watch her eyes;
 They shone like stars upon the sea
     Soft mirrored from the skies.
 Her little hands upon her knee
     In folded stillness lay
 And in the dusk gloamed winsomely
     Like lily buds astray.
         Just sixteen years of joys and fears—
             Just sixteen years hath she
                 But her faith is sure
                 And her soul is pure
             And she’s all the world to me.
 
 A silence fell. It seemed a spell
     Had fallen on my Sweet.
 I saw her quivering bosom swell
     I heard my heart a-beat.
 I spoke!—but what? I cannot tell
     I hardly know the rest;
 But as the timid tear-drops fell
     I clasped her to my breast.
         Just sixteen years of smiles and tears—
             Just sixteen years hath she
                 But the wedding chimes
                 Will ring betimes
             For my little bride to be.