MY VALENTINE.

O Dorothy, sweet Dorothy,

You make my heart rejoice;

Your presence is like Arcady,

There's music in your voice;

Heaven's purity is on your brow,

Its light is in your eyne;

I love you, and I ask you now

To be my Valentine.

Your face is like the lily in

The morning's ruddy light;

Your dimpled cheeks and tiny chin

Are blessings to my sight;

Your lips are fairer than the rose

And redder far than wine;

Your teeth are whiter than the snows:

You'll be my Valentine!

You are not quite so old as I,

You've seen but summers three;

And that's no doubt the reason why

You are not coy with me.

I'll come to you to-morrow,

And on chocolates we'll dine;

And you'll have no thought of sorrow

When you are my Valentine.