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
0. START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN
HEARTS ARE TRUMPS ***
Produced by papeters, Garrett Alley, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.
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