My Beautiful Ruth

In the greenness and freshness of may,
All calm, as the whisperings of truth,
Thou'rt the star of my soul all the day,
My lovely! my beautiful Ruth!
The birds they are singing all round,
While the sun shines, so warm on the ground,
Lakes ripple in verges of gold,
Where the king cups, and daisy's unfold.


Neath the white thorn, that's covered wi May,
With my arm round her neck, for an hour,
I'd court her there, through half the day,
Then hasten to pluck the wild flower,
The cowslip I'd place in her breast,
The roses shall bloom on her cheek,
Of her whom my heart loves the best,
For no other than her will I seek.


With my lips on her beautiful cheek,
Breathing love in fond kisses, and sighs,
I could court her, and kiss her a week,
For the light o' the heaven's in her eyes,
The brook floweth happily by,
Where the cowslip is seen, in the flood,
Reflected where calmly they lie,
On the ground where Ruth happily stood.


She stood like a pastoral Queen,
She smil'd like an angel o' light,
The grass it grows bright in her e'en,
On a moonlight, and beautiful night,
All is quiet — and sleepeth the noize,
I love her in heart, and in truth,
And nothing can equal my joys,
When I clasp to my bosom fond Ruth.
To — Ruth Tennant
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