ΤΟ THE RIGHT HONOURABLE ROBERT, EARL OF LYTTON, TO WHOM, UNDER THE NAME OF OWEN MEREDITH, THE LITERATURE OF LOVE IS SO DEEPLY INDEBTED, THIS RANDOM POSY OF LOVE-RHYMES IS, BY HIS LORDSHIP'S KIND PERMISSION, RESPECTFULLY AND ADMIRINGLY Dedicated. AUTHOR'S NOTE. THE distinctive features of this little collection, culled from "THE TABLETS OF THE HEART," are these : 1. The bringing together in a single volume of complete poems, extracts of some length, and brief aphoristic bits. 2. The juxtaposition of poems and passages distinctly serious with others as distinctly comic. 3. The including of a large number of little pieces and pithy extracts especially suitable for transcription. This last feature will, it is hoped, enable the collection to win its way into the good graces of those who, wishing to send a card-souvenir on Valentine's Day, prefer to the ready-made verses a few lines chosen by themselves and inscribed on the back of the card in their own hand. Not a few little pieces, specially written for the performance of this pleasant duty, and sprinkled over the pages of this volume, are the copyright of the Publishers, Messrs. Raphael Tuck and Sons,-with whom the elevation of the standard, both literary and artistic, of cards appropriate to the several seasons, has been an object steadily and most successfully pursued. PREFACE. WHEN Authors indite or Compilers select, Poor Damon, sunk deep in the quagmire of love, Fast losing in girth, while increasing in sighs, For whom all the blue of the world-arch above Laughs saucily forth from two mischievous eyes, I come to the rescue-by hook or by crook, I'll pull you, old fellow, triumphantly through; The whole art of wooing's set forth in my bookThe book is for You. And you, little Phyllis, whose tip-tilted nose Goes up a good inch when of Damon we speak, Yet whose quick-beating heart is so hard to compose If Damon but whisper, "The tea's rather weak;" I bring you a trifle of sweets to the sweet, With nutmeg and lemon the whole to imbue ; Here's Love's Vade-mecum, revised and complete— The book is for You. And you, Master Cynic, who turn with a sneer And never leaves anything nasty behind, And you, Sir, who say that life's glamour is o'er- And you, for whom life-once so glowing and sweet- O'er the ashes of hopes that lie whitened and dead you ; for whom earth has no blossom beside One flower that revives not, though tears be its dew, O loving and faithful, O tender and tried! The book is for You. And you who, too happy for comment or praise, O triumphing Bridegroom and rose-hearted Bride, From the smooth-pated sage to the ringleted elf, From the judge on the bench to the rogue at the bar, From the clown to whom bacon is poetry's self To the exquisite being who dines on a star, From the beauty with pearls on her pearlier breast To the beauty whose gems are a nose-ring or two, Love rules;-so, without reservation or test, The book is for YOU. F. L. a |