Page:Cheskian Anthology.pdf/74

 And twirling thy distaff be smiling and gay,

And have all thy wishes, and have all thy way;

Let thy thread just be thick or be thin at thy will,

But hang not so far o'er the high window-sill;

I fear me thy spindle thou'lt break, which would vex thee;

Thy thread thou wilt lose, and that would perplex thee;

So take my good wishes—as meant—not amiss,

And may the new year be a new year of bliss.

To love—and not to see her face—

Is darkness, and no star-lamp o'er it;

To see—without one dear embrace—

Is a dark field without a ﬂow'ret.

well the doctor knows—the doctor knows full well,

That wine—that wine's the thing to work a miracle.