  YOUR birthday, my girl with the tender eyes, And the dower of youth and zest, It is kind of heaven to give us this day, When the world is looking its best, When the crimson roses are all abloom With their sisters of paler grace, When the sun makes warm, and the dew makes glad Each velvety beautiful face. When the breeze which comes seems a heavy breath,— From the lungs of the earth o’ergrown With the fairest things, and the sweetest things That ever was seen, or known, When the bird has an added note of pride In each carol of joy he sings, Do you know? can you guess? my pretty mate, And the wee things under my wings! Your birthday, my girl with the tender eyes And the fair young cheek and brow, Your birthday, my girl with the smiling lips, What things shall I wish for you now? While I wish you a happy year, While I wish you the best that heaven can give To a maiden so sweet and dear. While I wish you love with never a stint, For the riches of love are great— While I wish that shadows may flee your path, And the glorious sunshine wait, While I wish you the happiness, full and deep, The gladness and brightness of life, A place in your heart for the white dove of peace, But none for the whisper of strife. Your birthday, my girl with the tender eyes And the shimmering braids of hair— I say as I look through a mist of tears, It is good to be young and fair, It is well to lean on the Father’s arm, Love forces the words in a flood: God bless my girl with the tender eyes! God bless her and keep her good! [Decorative image unavailable.] |
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