When hearts are trumps

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Title: When hearts are trumps
Author: Thomas Winthrop Hall
Release Date: March 25, 2004 [EBook #11711]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
? START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN HEARTS ARE TRUMPS ***
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When Hearts are Trumps
By
Tom Hall
[Illustration]
New York?Frederick A. Stokes?Company?Publishers
Frederick H. Stokes?Company
Sixth Edition?September 1898
_The verses in this volume have been selected from work that has appeared in various periodicals during the past five years. Especially to the editors of_ LIFE, TRUTH, TOWN TOPICS, VOGUE, and MUNSEY'S MAGAZINE _I have to offer my thanks for their permission to republish the majority of them_.
T.H.
NEW YORK, February 1, 1894.
Contents.
KINGS & QUEENS & BOWERS
THE PERFECT FACE?THE MOONLIGHT SONATA?THE KISS?THE BRIDE?A PROBLEM?TO PHYLLIS READING A LETTER?A ROSE FROM HER HAIR?WHEN I TOLD HER MY LOVE?MY LADY, YOU BLUSHED?THE AMERICAN SLAVE?SELL HER,--THAT'S RIGHT?TIME AND PLACE?BLOOD ON THE ROSE?IN OLD MADRID?THE DUEL?THE SHROUD?LOVE'S RETURN?ONE WISH?FOR ME?TO A WATER-COLOR?THE SERENADE?TO THE ROSE IN HER HAIR?HER REVERIE?TO BEAUTY?DREAMING OF YOU?PLEASE RETURN?ALMOST DYING OF ENNUI?JACKS FROM JACK?HYACINTHS?IN THE WALTZ?SHE IS MINE?OLD TIMES?OF MY LOVE?THE FAREWELL?THE LAST DANCE?WHY HE ASKED FOR A VACATION?THE EDITOR'S VALENTINE?ACTING?AN APACHE LOVE-SONG?THE OLD-FASHIONED GIRL?A RETROSPECT?HARD HIT?REJECTED
JOKERS
HER YACHTING CAP?THEFT?BEFORE HER MIRROR?AT OLD POINT COMFORT?A DROP TOO MUCH?INGRATITUDE?A FEW RESOLUTIONS?A DILEMMA?A CHOICE NOT NECESSARY?THAT BOSTON GIRL?THE HERO?THE SWEET SUMMER GIRL?HER FAN?CERTAINTY?CAUGHT?AN IMPORTANT DISTINCTION?TWO KINDS?WHAT IT IS?IN HER PEW?THE SUSPICIOUS LOVER TO THE STAR?A SLIGHT SURPRISE?PAST vs. PRESENT?THE USUAL WAY?A DIFFERENCE IN STYLE?AFRAID?YE RETORT EXASPERATING?A RHYMING REVERIE?A SURE WINNER?TANTALIZATION?HIS USUAL FATE?ON TWO LETTERS FROM HER?A SERENADE--EN DEUX LANGUES?WHEN A GIRL SAYS "NO"?UNCERTAINTY?HER PECULIARITIES?TYING THE STRINGS OF HER SHOE?WHEN YOU ARE REJECTED?A BACHELOR'S VIEWS?MY CIGARETTE?DISCOVERED?THE ICE IN THE PUNCH?THE TALE OF A BROKEN HEART?WHERE DID YOU GET IT??NO?A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S TEMPEST?THE ABUSED GALLANT?AFTER THE BALL?VANITY FAIR?FOR THE LONG VOYAGE
Kings?&?Queens?&?Bowers
The Perfect Face.
The Graces, on a summer day,?Grew serious for a moment; yea,?They thought in rivalry to trace?The outline of a perfect face.
Each used a rosebud for a brush,?And, while it glowed with sunset's blush,?Each painted on the evening sky,?And each a star used for the eye.
They finished. Each a curtaining cloud?Drew back, and each exclaimed aloud:?"Behold, we three have drawn the same,?From the same model!" Ah, her name?
I know. I saw the pictures grow.?I saw them falter, fade, and go.?I know the model. Oft she lures?My heart. The face, my sweet, was yours.
The Moonlight Sonata.
The notes still float upon the air,
Just as they did that night.?I see the old piano there,--
Oh, that again I might!
Her young voice haunts my eager ear;
Her hair in the candle-light?Still seems an aureole,--a tear
Is my spectroscope to-night.
I hear her trembling tell me "No,"
And I know that she answered right?But I throw a kiss to the stars, and though
She be wed she will dream to-night.
The Kiss
Over the green fields, over the snow,?Something I send thee, something I throw.?No one can guess it; no one can know.
Light as a feather, quick as the eye;?Thin as a sunbeam, deep as the sky;?Worthless, but something a queen could not buy.
Ah, you have caught it, love! How do I know??Sweet, there are secrets lost ages ago.?Lovers learn all of them. Smile not,--'tis so.
The Bride.
Before her mirror, robed in spotless white,?She stands and, wondering, looks at her own face,?Amazed at its new loveliness and grace.?Smiling and blushing at the pretty sight,?So fraught is she with innocent delight,?She feels the tender thrill of his embrace?Crushing her lilies into flowery lace;?Then sighs and starts, even as though from fright.
Then fleets before her eyes the happy past;?She turns from it with petulant disdain,?And tries to read the future,--but in vain.?Blank are its pages from the first to last.?She hears faint music, smiles, and leaves the room?Just as one rosebud more bursts into bloom.
A Problem.
Give you a problem for your midnight toil,--?One you can study till your hair is white?And never solve and never guess aright,?Although you burn to dregs your midnight oil??O Sage, I give one that will make you moil.?Just take one weakling little woman's heart.?Prepare your patience, furbish up your art.?How now? Did I not see you then recoil?
Tell me how many times it has known pain;?Tell me what thing will make it feel delight;?Tell me when it is modest, when 'tis vain;?Tell me when it is wrong and when 'tis right:?But tell me this, all other things above,--?Can it feel, Sage, the thing that man calls "Love"?
To Phyllis Reading a Letter.
A smile is curving o'er her creamy cheek,?Her bosom swells with all a lover's joy,?When love receives a message that the coy?Young love-god made a strong and