_For the Table Book._
“A very fine gentleman treads the lawn,
He passes our cottage duly;
We met in the grove the other morn,
And he vow’d to love me truly;
He call’d me his dear, his love, his life,
And told me his heart was burning;
But he never once said--will you be my wife?
So I left him his offers spurning.”
“And what were his offers to thee, my child?”
Old Woodland said to Nancy--
“Oh many things, which almost beguil’d
Your simple daughter’s fancy;
He talk’d of jewels, laces, and gold,
Of a castle, servants, and carriage;
And I could have lov’d the youth so bold,
But he never talk’d of marriage.
“So I drew back my hand, and saved my lips,
For I cared not for his money;
And I thought he was like the bee which sips
From ev’ry flower its honey:
Vet I think his heart is a little bent
Towards me,” said Nancy, “and marriage;
For last night, as soon as to sleep I went,
I dream’d of a castle and carriage.”
“’Twere wrong, my child,” old Woodland said,
“Such idle dream to cherish
The roses of life full soon will fade,
They never should timeless perish;
The flower that’s pluck’d will briefly die,
Tho’ placed on a peerless bosom;
And ere you look with a loving eye,
Think, think on a fading blossom.”