Joy's wreath drooped o'er mine eyes; I could not He bade me slowly ripen to my prime, see That sorrow in our happy world must be JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. POSSESSION. I. "IT was our wedding-day A month ago," dear heart, I hear you say. I count my life: the Past is washed away. 11. It was no dream, that vow : It was the voice that woke me from a dream, The fleeting promise, chased so long in vain : And from my boughs withheld the promised fruit, Thy blessing is: I have thee day and night: BAYARD TAYLOR. THE DAY RETURNS, MY BOSOM BURNS. THE day returns, my bosom burns, While day and night can bring delight, Comes in between to make us part, ROBERT BURNS THE POET'S BRIDAL-DAY SONG. O, MY love 's like the steadfast sun, 128 中 Nor mirth, nor sweetest song that flows To sober joys and soften woes, Can make my heart or fancy flee, One moment, my sweet wife, from thee. Even while I muse, I see thee sit As when, beneath Arbigland tree, We stayed and wooed, and thought the moon Set on the sea an hour too soon; Or lingered mid the falling dew, When looks were fond and words were few. Though I see smiling at thy feet Five sons and ae fair daughter sweet, They come, my love, they come from thee. O, when more thought we gave, of old, At times there come, as come there ought, A mother's heart shine in thine eye, ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. THE POET'S SONG TO HIS WIFE. How many summers, love, Have I been thine ? How many days, thou dove, Hast thou been mine? IF THOU WERT BY MY SIDE, MY LOVE IF thou wert by my side, my love, If thou, my love, wert by my side, I miss thee at the dawning gray, I miss thee when by Gunga's stream I spread my books, my pencil try, But when at morn and eve the star I feel, though thou art distant far, Then on! then on! where duty leads, My course be onward still, O'er broad Hindostan's sultry meads, O'er bleak Almorah's hill. As sweet your face might be that day as now it is, 't is true; But did I know your heart as well when this old ring was new ? JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, O partner of my gladness, wife, what care, what grief is there For me you would not bravely face, with me you would not share? O, what a weary want had every day, if wanting you, Wanting the love that God made mine when this old ring was new! Years bring fresh links to bind us, wife, - young voices that are here; Young faces round our fire that make their mother's yet more dear; ROBERT BURNS. Young loving hearts your care each day makes yet more like to you, More like the loving heart made mine when this old ring was new. THE WORN WEDDING-RING. YOUR wedding-ring wears thin, dear wife; ah, summers not a few, And blessed be God! all he has given are with us yet; around Since I put it on your finger first, have passed o'er me and you; Our table every precious life lent to us still is found. And, love, what changes we have seen, - what cares and pleasures, too, Though cares we've known, with hopeful hearts the worst we've struggled through; Blessed be his name for all his love since this Since you became my own dear wife, when this old ring was new ! old ring was new ! O, blessings on that happy day, the happiest of my life, The past is dear, its sweetness still our memories treasure yet; When, thanks to God, your low, sweet "Yes" made you my loving wife! Your heart will say the same, I know; that Whatever, wife, the future brings, heart unto The griefs we 've borne, together borne, we would not now forget. |