| |
| SWEET little maid with winsome eyes | |
| That laugh all day through the tangled hair; | |
| Gazing with baby looks so wise | |
| Over the arm of the oaken chair, | |
| Dearer than you is none to me, | 5 |
| Dearer than you there can be none; | |
| Since in your laughing face I see | |
| Eyes that tell of another one. | |
| |
| Here where the firelight softly glows, | |
| Sheltered and safe and snug and warm, | 10 |
| What to you is the wind that blows, | |
| Driving the sleet of the winter storm? | |
| Round your head the ruddy light | |
| Glints on the gold from your tresses spun, | |
| But deep is the drifting snow to-night | 15 |
| Over the head of the other one. | |
| |
| Hold me close as you sagely stand, | |
| Watching the dying embers shine; | |
| Then shall I feel another hand | |
| That nestled once in this hand of mine; | 20 |
| Poor little hand, so cold and chill, | |
| Shut from the light of stars and sun, | |
| Clasping the withered roses still | |
| That hide the face of the sleeping one. | |
| |
| Laugh, little maid, while laugh you may, | 25 |
| Sorrow comes to us all, I know; | |
| Better perhaps for her to stay | |
| Under the robe of drifting snow. | |
| Sing while you may your baby songs, | |
| Sing till your baby days are done; | 30 |
| But oh the ache of the heart that longs | |
| Night and day for the other one! | |
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