Drawings by
Howard Chandler Christy
Decorations by
Virginia Keep
The Bobbs-Merrill Company
Publishers Indianapolis
Copyright, 1888-1899-1902
James Whitcomb Riley
Copyright, 1902
The Bowen-Merrill Company
The beginning of whose steadfast friendship was marked by the first publication of these verses which now, expanded by writer, honored by publisher and masterfully graced by artist, seem to be a worthier symbol of the author's grateful and affectionate regard for his earliest friend
The ordered intermingling
of the real and the dream,—
The mill above the river,
and the mist above the stream;
The life of ceaseless labor,
brave with song and cheery call—
The radiant skies of evening,
with its rainbow o'er us all.
!—Is this
her presence here with me,
Or but a vain creation of
a lover's memory?
A fair, illusive vision
that would vanish into air
Dared I even touch the silence
with the whisper of a prayer?
Nay, let me then believe in all
the blended false and true—
The semblance of the old love
and the substance of the new,—
The then of changeless sunny days—
the now of shower and shine—
But Love forever smiling,—
as that old sweetheart of mine.
This ever-restful sense of home,
though shouts ring in the hall.—
The easy-chair—the old bookshelves
and prints along the wall;
The rare Habanas in their box,
or gaunt churchwarden-stem
That often wags, above the jar,
derisively at them.
As one who cons at evening
o'er an album, all alone,
And muses on the faces
of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of Fancy,
till, in shadowy design,
I find the smiling features of
an old sweetheart of mine.
The lamplight seems to glimmer
with a flicker of surprise,
As I turn it low—to rest me
of the dazzle in my eyes,
And light my pipe in silence,
save a sigh that seems to yoke
Its fate with my tobacco
and to vanish with the smoke.
The lamplight seems to glimmer
with a flicker of surprise,
As I turn it low—to rest me
of the dazzle in my eyes,
And light my pipe in silence,
save a sigh that seems to yoke
Its fate with my tobacco
and to vanish with the smoke.
'Tis a fragrant retrospection,—
for the loving thoughts that start
Into being are like perfume
from the blossom of the heart;
And to dream the old dreams over
is a luxury divine—
When my truant fancies wander
with that old sweetheart of mine.
Though I hear beneath my study,
like a fluttering of wings,
The voices of my children
and the mother as she sings—
I feel no twinge of conscience
to deny me any theme
When Care has cast her anchor
In the harbor of a dream—
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.
O Childhood-days enchanted!
O the magic of the Spring!—
With all green boughs to blossom white,
and all bluebirds to sing!
When all the air, to toss and quaff,
made life a jubilee
And changed the children's song and
laugh to shrieks of ecstasy.
With eyes half closed in clouds that ooze
from lips that taste, as well,
The peppermint and cinnamon,
I hear the old School-bell,
And from "Recess" romp in again
from "Blackman's" broken line,
To—smile, behind my "lesson",
at that old sweetheart of mine.
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.
Again I make her presents,