THE branches creaked on the garret roof, And the snow blew in at the eaves, When I found a hymn-book, tattered and torn, And turned its mouldering leaves. And lo! in its yellow pages lay Grandmother's valentine tucked away. Hearts and roses together twined, And sweet little Cupids quaint, The gilt from the hearts was worn away, And the pink of the roses faint, And the Cupids' faces were blurred and dim, But it marked the place of her favorite hymn. Before me rose on the dusty floor The ghost of a slender maid, Like the portrait hung on the parlor wall, In a gown of flowered brocade, And ivory laces, as fine as air, And a diamond star in her powdered hair. A handsome gallant beside her bent In the country dress of old, He wore a ring with a ruby set And a waistcoat flowered with gold, Ruffled wrists and a ribboned cue, Silver buckles and coat of blue. "What hast thou shut in thy lily hand With a tassel of azure tied?" "A valentine left on my window sill In the gray of the dawn," she cried, "And I love the lover who rode so far In the deep snows, under the morning star." Then he pressed his arm to her rounded waist And his lips to her rosy ear: "Oh, lean thy head to my breast, I pray, And I'll tell thee a secret, dear! It was I who rode with the valentine So fast and so far and thou art mine!" A mouse ran over the broken boards, Behold! when I looked again For the squire in the gay blue coat And the maid with the silken train, There was nothing there but the shadows tall And the cobwebs long on the windy wall. But I dropped a tear on the musty book And I tenderly laid it down With the treasure, deep in the cedar chest, In the folds of a faded gown, And left it there on the lavender leaves And ashes of roses, under the eaves. For I thought of a youth with soft brown eyes And how I had vexed him sore. The dim, dead lovers they touched my heart, And so I was cold no more; For love is the same as long ago, Grandmother's valentine told me so. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BIRTHDAY SONG by SIDNEY LANIER THE PLAYERS ASK FOR A BLESSING ON THE PSALTERIES AND ON THEMSELVES by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE KING OF SPAIN by MAXWELL BODENHEIM FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT by CHARLES WILLIAM SHIRLEY BROOKS GOING AND STAYING by THOMAS HARDY THE CUMBERLAND [MARCH 8, 1862] by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |