  I CALLED her sweetbriar when first we walked, Deep down in the winding lane, The wild birds sang, and we laughed, and we talked, Deep down in the winding lane, We met in the sunshine of one spring day— Youthful, and happy, and free, Into her keeping my heart flew straightway, Pretty and piquant, was she. Her hazel eyes were so gentle and meek, But scornful her mouth and chin, Her brow was severe, but each rosy cheek Had a roguish dimple in, And I cried, “I love you my sweetbriar maid!” And then, oh moment of bliss, My lips to her cherry-red lips I laid, And tasted my first love-kiss. ’Twas ever and ever so long ago, But I remember it yet, Ah, the springtime of life, its bloom and its glow, The heart can never forget, The wealth, the fame and the gold That the years have brought, if they’d roll away, And leave us the thrill of old. If only straight backward old time would move— (Ah, wishing is all in vain), And leave us with youth, and joy, and love, Deep down in that winding lane. [Decorative image unavailable.] |
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