Our Darling Kate
(published by W. Jennings Demorest, N.Y., 1865)
There’s a bright-eyed maid comes thro’ the garden gate,
Light as the wild roe bounding,
O! well I know she is our darling Kate,
For her voice in my heart is sounding;
And her light merry laugh, so mellow, soft, and clear,
On summer breezes ringing,
Like a silver bell strikes on the ravished ear,
And flow’rs ’neath her feet are springing.
Darling, darling, darling little Kate,
Fair as the star of morning,
Thine this heart, whatever be my fate,
Till the lamp of life cease burning.
Her radiant face is seen amid the trees,
Bright as the sunlight beaming,
Her fragrant breath gives odor to the breeze,
And her eyes like twin stars are beaming;
And bright aereal forms upon her smiles await
On morn’s bright pinions soaring,
They come to greet our darling little Kate,
Her angel form adoring.
Her raven curls hang o’er a neck of snow,
Bath’d in the sunbeams brightness,
Her peachlike cheek with modest blushes glow,
And her brow shames the lily’s whiteness;
O! were I possess’d of India’s vast estate,
Or the fabled wealth of story,
I’d give them all for darling little Kate,
Our own bright Morning-glory.