Rosalie

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Rosalie

Lithesome, blithesome daughter mine,

Lift to me those lips of thine;

Greet me with those eyes of blue,

Eyes which seem to look me through:

Flashing now with life and light;

Now in hush of sleep reposing,

Veiled by lashes dark as night⁠—

Shadows over violets closing.

Come thou, o’er me softly bow,

Shower on me fond caresses;

O’er my cheek, and on my brow,

Fling thy wealth of sunbright tresses.

Every throbbing pulse of mine

Beats in time and tune to thine;

All my heart’s tide sets to thee,

Loving little Rosalie.

As the dewdrop doth the flower,

As the sunshine doth the hour,

So the music of thy voice

Makes my soul rejoice.

All the livelong day around

Babbles on thy childlike chatter;

Mingled with the pleasant sound

Comes thy little foot’s light patter.

Like the linnet’s on the thorn

Joyously thy carol floweth⁠—

Sing, my bird, for thy young morn

No dark night of winter knoweth.

Blue-eyed romp, in ceaseless whirl,

Half the angel, half the girl,

All the child art thou to me,

Laughing little Rosalie.

Loved one mine, the sunny day

Passeth rapidly away;

All too soon the bright time goes⁠—

All too fast life’s current flows.

Now its fairy waters glide

Where the sunbeams o’er it quiver;

Soon the salt waves meet its tide,

Soon the beck will be the river⁠—

Thine is now the primrose spring,

Thine the bluebell in the meadows:

Mine the fading hours that fling

Autumn leaves and lengthening shadows;

Yet my day lights up awhile

’Neath the sunshine of thy smile⁠—

Thou dost bring new life to me,

Lithesome, blithesome Rosalie.