WHEN HEARTS WERE TRUMPS.

WHEN HEARTS WERE TRUMPS.
Ralph M. Thomson.
425.2

Once hearts were trumps, yet that was when
Love played an honest game with men;
Each trick so deftly won and turned,
But emphasized the victory earned
When hearts were trumps.

When hearts were trumps, my love and
I Would, somehow, catch each other’s eye;
A conscious blush or dimpled smile
Made every card seem worth the while
When hearts were trumps.

When hearts were trumps, she often played
And led, as almost every maid
Who would not lose, nor yet begin
To grant that she did wish to win
With hearts as trumps.

When hearts were trumps, the light burned low,
As if to shed a softer glow;
With pride my happy bosom swelled
As though I owned the hand I held
When hearts were trumps.

Then hearts were trumps.
How long ago,- The days are dimmed with webs of woe;- Should love discard its useless pain
And deal as gently once again
Would hearts be trumps?