Quote #7
Why don't the men propose, Mamma? Why don't the men propose?
More from Thomas Haynes Bayly
- Gayly the troubadour Touched his guitar.
- She wore a wreath of roses The first night that we met.
- We met,-'t was in a crowd.
- Friends depart, and memory takes them To her caverns, pure and deep.
- Oh no! we never mention her, Her name is never heard; My lips are now forbid to speak That once familiar word.
- Tell me the tales that to me were so dear, Long, long ago, long, long ago.
- Those that have wealth must be watchful and wary, Power, alas! naught but misery brings!
- The rose that all are praising Is not the rose for me.