C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Author Unknown
Winifreda
A
My Winifreda, move your care;
Let naught delay the heavenly blessing—
Nor squeamish pride nor gloomy fear.
With pompous title grace our blood?
We’ll shine in more substantial honors,
And to be noble we’ll be good.
Will sweetly sound where’er ’tis spoke;
And all the great ones they shall wonder
How they respect such little folk.
No mighty treasures we possess?
We’ll find within our pittance plenty,
And be content without excess.
Sufficient for our wishes give;
For we will live a life of reason,
And that’s the only life to live.
We’ll hand in hand together tread;
Sweet smiling peace shall crown our dwelling,
And babes, sweet smiling babes, our bed.
While round my knees they fondly clung,
To see them look their mother’s features,
To hear them lisp their mother’s tongue!
Shall think to rob us of our joys,
You’ll in your girls again be courted,
And I’ll go wooing in my boys.