A song for old man Thurman,
And sing it clear and strong.
His life has been a sermon,
Now let it be a song.
And this shall be its burthen,
To give us greatest joy —
He calls his old wife " Sweetheart, "
And loves her like a boy.

There is no fairer story
In all our nation's life;
No better, purer glory
In all its peace and strife.
True is that man, and steadfast,
Fine gold, with no alloy,
Who calls his old wife " Sweetheart, "
And loves her like a boy!

Who cares for his position

The golden-rod was flaming bright,
The autumn day was fine,
The air was soft and scented with
The purple muscadine.

We travelled far a wooded path,
The sky was bright above
And all things seemed to smile and breathe
A blessing on our love.

O! sweet and dreamy was that face,
Such tenderness expressed
In every line, and born to be,
Love burdened and caressed.

So happy in my happiness
I could not think it then,
That after parting on that day
We should not meet again.

For hope is ever found with love,

Farewell, Dearest and Best,
What matters it whether the name be Dove,
Dear-heart, and all sweet words at love's behest,
Since none can voice my love?

To stay is past my power;
Oh, love, my own Dear-heart, farewell, good-bye!
For thee I'll breathe through every passing hour,
A fond and secret sigh.

But, Dear, though it be long,
This hope 'mid distant scenes and fellow-men
Will lead me on, in solitude, or throng,
That we shall meet again.

Sweetheart, do you remember how
One evening, years ago,
I held you where I found you, with both my arms around you,
Close to my heart as now,
And kissed you, dearest, so, and so?

The golden summer sun had set,
But through the sifting gray
There blushed a purple glimmer that dimmer grew and dimmer,
While low to westward fluttered yet

The rainbow on the ocean
A moment bright,
The nightingale's devotion
That dies on night,
Eve's rosy star a-tremble
Its hour of light —
All things that love resemble
Too soon take flight.

The violets we cherish
Died in the spring;
Roses and lilies perish
In what they bring;
And joy and beauty wholly
With life depart;
But love leaves slow, how slowly!
Life's empty heart.

O, strange to me, and wondrous,
The storm passed by,
With sound of voices thundrous
Swept from the sky;

What time I went from thee to other lands
Love took my soul between his glowing hands,
And turned it all about and tortured it —
Ah, cruel Love! — and minded not a whit
Because my poor soul at his fervent breath
Was melted, ev'n as iron that softeneth
Upon the forge; lo, on my cheek appears
Love's handiwork — my molten soul in tears.

Pretty one, sad one, lift up your eyes and greet me;
The April wind is in the land and appleblossoms drift.
Come from out your shadowed place—take a step to meet me.
I am new Love, true Love—who comes with many a gift.

With fresh, red roses bespangled with the dew
For the withered ones your sweet hands cherish,
With a handful of happy dreams to all come true
In place of the wistful ones that perish.

Pretty one, sad one, lift up your eyes nor doubt me;
I am new Love, true Love who at your threshold stands,

I am no more lonely, now that I have known your love,
Now that your love lies safe in my heart;
I go my way in wonder,
Companioned by great beauty.
Everywhere there are silvery voices calling me,
And when I walk beneath the stars
I understand the speech of the wind-cool sky,
And when I mingle with many people
I am one with the secret of their souls.

Until you came I was ever lonely;
I knew only solitude over the earth,
In the forests or playing with little children,
In the dawn-hour or in the shadow —

I am no more myself,
For love has made us indivisible.
I have become you —
(And Oh! the joy of this intermingling!)

As two stars that fall thro' space
Join their silvery pinions in the night,
So thro' the dark of life
Shot the shining arrow of our love.

I am liberated from self,
Self has merged in you;
I am not I, for I have become you;
(And Oh! the joy of this intermingling!)

Heal me with your love,
Fold me in your heart;
Let me think not of
The long years apart.

Let me no more weep,
Lying on your breast;
Kiss my soul to sleep,
There it would find rest.

I shall no more go
Lonely on my way;
We shall only know
Love, each happy day.

Tears and sorrow over,
Eased the aching smart.
Fold me, O my lover,
Ever in your heart!