A Rose from her hair.

She gave me a rose from her hair,
And she hid her young heart within it.
I could hardly speak from despair,
Till she gave that rose from her hair,
And leaned out over the stair
With a blush as she stooped to pin it.
She gave me a rose from her hair,
And she hid her young heart within it.




When I told her my Love.

When I told her my love,
She was maidenly shy,
And she bit at her glove.

I gave Cupid a shove;
Yes, I begged him to try,
When I told her my love

What was she thinking of
As she uttered that sigh
And she bit at her glove?