Thomas Haynes Bayly
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"Thomas Haynes Bayly" was an English poet, songwriter, dramatist, and miscellaneous writer.

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Why don't the men propose, mamma, / Why don't the men propose?

Gaily the Troubadour / Touched his guitar.

We met, 'twas in a crowd, and I thought he would shun me.

I'd be a butterfly; living a rover, / Dying when fair things are fading away.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, / Isle of Beauty, Fare thee well!

The rose that all are praising/ Is not the rose for me.

She wore a wreath of roses, / The night that first we met.

The mistletoe hung in the castle hall, / The holly branch shone on the old oak wall.

Oh! no! we never mention her, her name is never heard; my lips are now forbid to speak, that once familiar word.