In fact, to speak in earnest, I believe it adds a charm To spice the good a trifle with a little dust of harm—­ For I find an extra flavor in Memory’s mellow wine That makes me drink the deeper to that old sweetheart of mine.

[Illustration:  (The voices of my children)]

[Illustration:  (The pink sunbonnet)]

A face of lily-beauty, with a form of airy grace,
Floats out of my tobacco as the genii from the vase;
And I thrill beneath the glances of a pair of azure eyes
As glowing as the summer and as tender as the skies.

I can see the pink sunbonnet and the little checkered dress
She wore when first I kissed her and she answered the caress
With the written declaration that, “as surely as the vine
Grew round the stump,” she loved me—­that old sweetheart of mine.

[Illustration:  (When first I kissed her)]

And again I feel the pressure of her slender little hand,
As we used to talk together of the future we had planned—­
When I should be a poet, and with nothing else to do
But write the tender verses that she set the music to: 

When we should live together in a cozy little cot
Hid in a nest of roses, with a fairy garden-spot,
Where the vines were ever fruited, and the weather ever fine,
And the birds were ever singing for that old sweetheart of mine: 

[Illustration]

When I should be her lover forever and a day,
And she my faithful sweetheart till the golden hair was gray;
And we should be so happy that when either’s lips were dumb
They would not smile in Heaven till the other’s kiss had come.

* * * * *

But, ah! my dream is broken by a step upon the stair,
And the door is softly opened, and—­my wife is standing there;
Yet with eagerness and rapture all my visions I resign
To greet the living presence of that old sweetheart of mine.

[Illustration:  (My wife is standing there)]

A’ OLD PLAYED-OUT SONG

It’s the curiousest thing in creation,
  Whenever I hear that old song
“Do They Miss Me at Home,” I’m so bothered,
  My life seems as short as it’s long!—­
Fer ev’rything ’pears like adzackly
  It ’peared in the years past and gone,—­
When I started out sparkin’, at twenty,
  And had my first neckercher on!

Though I’m wrinkelder, older and grayer
  Right now than my parents was then,
You strike up that song “Do They Miss Me,”
  And I’m jest a youngster again!—­
I’m a-standin’ back thare in the furries
  A-wishin’ fer evening to come,
And a-whisperin’ over and over
  Them words “Do They Miss Me at Home?”

You see, Marthy Ellen she sung it
  The first time I heerd it; and so,
As she was my very first sweetheart,
  It reminds me of her, don’t you know;—­
How her face used to look, in the twilight,
  As I tuck her to Spellin’; and she
Kep’ a-hummin’ that song tel I ast her,
  Pine-blank, ef she ever missed me!