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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Author Unknown


AWAY! let naught to love displeasing,

My Winifreda, move your care;

Let naught delay the heavenly blessing—

Nor squeamish pride nor gloomy fear.

What though no grants of royal donors

With pompous title grace our blood?

We’ll shine in more substantial honors,

And to be noble we’ll be good.

Our name, while virtue thus we tender,

Will sweetly sound where’er ’tis spoke;

And all the great ones they shall wonder

How they respect such little folk.

What though from Fortune’s lavish bounty

No mighty treasures we possess?

We’ll find within our pittance plenty,

And be content without excess.

Still shall each kind returning season

Sufficient for our wishes give;

For we will live a life of reason,

And that’s the only life to live.

Through youth and age in love excelling,

We’ll hand in hand together tread;

Sweet smiling peace shall crown our dwelling,

And babes, sweet smiling babes, our bed.

How should I love the pretty creatures,

While round my knees they fondly clung,

To see them look their mother’s features,

To hear them lisp their mother’s tongue!

And when with envy Time transported

Shall think to rob us of our joys,

You’ll in your girls again be courted,

And I’ll go wooing in my boys.