Show THS GIUL I LEFT DIN M Written for The Herald O oftentimes in days gone by When limbs ware more elastic With merry lads and lasses I Have tripped the toe fantastic Forgetting lifes small sours and ills To find bewitching pleasure In waltz and polka aid quadrilles Or yet more stately measure But bleaching locka and soberer tread Now serve but to remind me Of years lonj jast and comrades dead And those I left beHind me One summer night that I recall From out the distant gloaming Chance led me to a country ball With fragrant roses blooming Where groups and rows of belles and beaux With happy smiling faces I In a wildering maze of furbelows Of broadcloths jsans and laces To the gay rout most truly brought A genuine devotion Urifiagging zeal was theirs if not The poetry of motion The old old tunes our grandmas heard And many a later jingle With thrilling strains our bosoms stirred And made the pulses tingle Id dance again with hearty will Despite Times scathing furrow The Opera Reel blithe Primrose Hill The Flowers of Edinboro Sweet Terpsichore even now No laggard should you find me In Money Musk and Speed the Plow j I I Or the girl I left behind me I Inone of those half pensive moods I Of tender lulling fancies That sometimes corns in solitudes Somptimes ft country dances I soughtnor recited the hour was late I Away from crowd and phorus A cosy nook and teteatete Cine dancing shadows oer us With one in fluffy tujle arrayed A nymph kind fate assigned me The music crashed then softly played The girl I len behind me Below us swiftly rln and splashed 4 A shallow winding river Where far across the wavelets flashed I The brilliant lights aquiver In ceaseless flow the hurrying tide Its whispering accents bjended I With victim and oiihecicide I Until the dance was ended Then babbled o er and oer again lOf past jqys to remind me For many a day this > plaintive strain The girl I left behind me Could I from out ths years long sped One day of youthful pleasure Recall and with blithe spirits tread I The sample sinuous measure Of rhythmic swing to violin A harm most joys transcending I I know not how It would begin I But know how twould be ending Times hands oer many a vanisncd year I I Should backward fly and find me I When I could see once moro anti hear The girl I left behind me 1 ALBERT SHERMAN I j gait Lake City December ISO I |