A Valentine to My
Wife
by Eugene Field
(1850-1895)
Accept, dear girl, this
little token,
And if between the lines you
seek,
You'll find the love I've
often spoken
The love my dying lips shall
speak.
Our little ones are making
merry
O'er am'rous ditties rhymed
in jest,
But in these words (though
awkward very)
The genuine article's
expressed.
You are as fair and sweet and
tender,
Dear brown-eyed little
sweetheart mine,
As when, a callow youth and
slender,
I asked to be your
Valentine.
What though these years of
ours be fleeting?
What though the years of
youth be flown?
I'll mock old Tempus with
repeating,
"I love my love and her
alone!"
And when I fall before his
reaping,
And when my stuttering speech
is dumb,
Think not my love is dead or
sleeping,
But that it waits for you to
come.
So take, dear love, this
little token,
And if there speaks in any
line
The sentiment I'd fain have
spoken,
Say, will you kiss your
Valentine?
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