To One Departed
SITTING, apart in the café, under a glare of light,Surrounded by wealth and beauty, I ponder here tonight.’Tis down in old New Orleans and the Carnival is in sway,There are music, jest and laughter—the revelry of the gay.While sitting here alone, dear, midst all this merry throng,The band begins to play, dear, our old, best loved song;They call it, dear, “Love’s Old Sweet Song,” and oh, it brings to meA longing deep to lay me down and rest, sweetheart, by thee.I listen to the music and hear the chattering throng,There steals o’er me a wondrous spell, again I hear the songAs sung by you, in the long ago, whose sweetness was so brief,And now, alone, I sit here with your memory and my grief.I have wandered over many lands in search of something true,And now I know, my darling, I found it but in you.I’ve searched afar for sweet content, and sought in vain for rest,I know I ne’er could find it, dear, save on thy faithful breast.Amidst this scene of life and mirth it is for you I crave,I seem to stand a thousand miles away, beside your grave,And see the stars that o’er it, there, a gentle vigil keep,And kiss the flowers that wave o’er you, my sweetheart, in your sleep.So, sitting here, surrounded thus by joy and beauty rareWith much to bring me happiness, and much to banish care,I know that now and evermore, I’ll always love you best,And learn to lie beside you, dear, to sleep—to sleep and rest.My eyes grow dim with longing; my heart grows numb with pain;I feel that you are waiting, dear, to clasp me once again.My soul pines for the journey’s end, when I, too, shall be free,And I’ll lie down to sleep, love, in the last long sleep, near thee.Bernard P. Bogy.
SITTING, apart in the café, under a glare of light,Surrounded by wealth and beauty, I ponder here tonight.’Tis down in old New Orleans and the Carnival is in sway,There are music, jest and laughter—the revelry of the gay.While sitting here alone, dear, midst all this merry throng,The band begins to play, dear, our old, best loved song;They call it, dear, “Love’s Old Sweet Song,” and oh, it brings to meA longing deep to lay me down and rest, sweetheart, by thee.I listen to the music and hear the chattering throng,There steals o’er me a wondrous spell, again I hear the songAs sung by you, in the long ago, whose sweetness was so brief,And now, alone, I sit here with your memory and my grief.I have wandered over many lands in search of something true,And now I know, my darling, I found it but in you.I’ve searched afar for sweet content, and sought in vain for rest,I know I ne’er could find it, dear, save on thy faithful breast.Amidst this scene of life and mirth it is for you I crave,I seem to stand a thousand miles away, beside your grave,And see the stars that o’er it, there, a gentle vigil keep,And kiss the flowers that wave o’er you, my sweetheart, in your sleep.So, sitting here, surrounded thus by joy and beauty rareWith much to bring me happiness, and much to banish care,I know that now and evermore, I’ll always love you best,And learn to lie beside you, dear, to sleep—to sleep and rest.My eyes grow dim with longing; my heart grows numb with pain;I feel that you are waiting, dear, to clasp me once again.My soul pines for the journey’s end, when I, too, shall be free,And I’ll lie down to sleep, love, in the last long sleep, near thee.Bernard P. Bogy.
SITTING, apart in the café, under a glare of light,Surrounded by wealth and beauty, I ponder here tonight.’Tis down in old New Orleans and the Carnival is in sway,There are music, jest and laughter—the revelry of the gay.
While sitting here alone, dear, midst all this merry throng,The band begins to play, dear, our old, best loved song;They call it, dear, “Love’s Old Sweet Song,” and oh, it brings to meA longing deep to lay me down and rest, sweetheart, by thee.
I listen to the music and hear the chattering throng,There steals o’er me a wondrous spell, again I hear the songAs sung by you, in the long ago, whose sweetness was so brief,And now, alone, I sit here with your memory and my grief.
I have wandered over many lands in search of something true,And now I know, my darling, I found it but in you.I’ve searched afar for sweet content, and sought in vain for rest,I know I ne’er could find it, dear, save on thy faithful breast.
Amidst this scene of life and mirth it is for you I crave,I seem to stand a thousand miles away, beside your grave,And see the stars that o’er it, there, a gentle vigil keep,And kiss the flowers that wave o’er you, my sweetheart, in your sleep.
So, sitting here, surrounded thus by joy and beauty rareWith much to bring me happiness, and much to banish care,I know that now and evermore, I’ll always love you best,And learn to lie beside you, dear, to sleep—to sleep and rest.
My eyes grow dim with longing; my heart grows numb with pain;I feel that you are waiting, dear, to clasp me once again.My soul pines for the journey’s end, when I, too, shall be free,And I’ll lie down to sleep, love, in the last long sleep, near thee.
Bernard P. Bogy.
Bernard P. Bogy.
According to GarfieldSTELLA—Would you marry a poor man?Bella—Yes, I would marry a beef magnate who only made two per cent.
According to Garfield
STELLA—Would you marry a poor man?
Bella—Yes, I would marry a beef magnate who only made two per cent.