Oh Caledonian Maiden!
Oh Hallie shy and still!
When’ere I hear sweet music,
Of you my thoughts will fill.
I shall think of those “half hours”
In Ripon spent with you,
I shall dream of great Beethoven
And of Mendelssohn so true.
If “sleepless nights” assail me,
And I toss about in vain,
The memory of Heller
Will make me rest again.
A chord of “Caller Herrin;”
A note of “Home sweet Home,”
A bar of Scotland’s “Blue Bells,”
Will make my spirit roam
To a Drawing-room in the Crescent
Where those sweet sounds I heard,
And where I fain would follow
If I were but a bird.
Then Hallie! dear Childe Hallie!
Be to your “talent” true,
And sometimes when you’re playing
Think I am watching you.—
Think how I loved your Music,
Not for itself alone,
But for the hands that played it
The mind that felt its tone.
And now farewell “Childe Hallie”!
Though I am growing old,
Fond mem’ry still will charm me,
To you I’ll ne’er grow cold.