Irene

How blithley speed and happy hours
When my dear love is near me,
And life is full of fragrant flowers,
When she is near to cheer me.

I breathe my passion all unknown;
My secret is my treasure;
My heart, when I am left alone,
Beats true to fancy's measure.

her winsome smiling rends my breast,
My passion's flame inspiring;
I build with eager, tender zest
Dreams of my soul's desiring.

The patter of her passing feet
Like silver bells deride me,
My pulses tune to their dear beat
And peace is all denied me.

last night as on my couch I lay
The hours dragged slow and weary,
reluctant so to bring the day
That gave to me my dearie.

Ah I would singf the virtues rare
her lovely form embraces,
But were she fifty times less fair
I'd love her for her graces.

And thus my peace she charms away,
This sweet seductive syren;
I can but live from day to day
Th greet and meet my Irene.
Epsom, January 1916