Oft in the hush of twilight,
When the golden sunbeams die,
There beams for me the light
Of Mary Jane's bright eye:
As she swings,
And sings,
And lingers late,
For me at the cottage gate.
Whenever the day goes wrong
With the weight of cruel cares,
The lustre of her orbs
Beam brighter though in tears,
As she weeps
And sweeps,
And watches late
My coming through the cottage gate.
Oh! the eyes of my Mary Jane!
Dark and sparkling, lovely eyes,
Where stood my reflected self
Mirrored in paradise,
As she hung,
And swung,
And lingered late,
And kissed me o'er the cottage gate.