H.A.B.

Deem not, Beloved! that the glow
     Of love with youth will know decay,—
For though the wing of Time may throw
     A shadow o’er our way;
The sunshine of a cloudless faith,
     The calmness of a holy trust,
Shall linger in our hearts till Death
     Consigns our “dust to dust!”

The fervid passion of our youth—
     The fervor of Affection’s kiss—
Love, born of purity and truth—
     All pleasant memories—
These still are ours, while looking back
     Upon the Past with dewy eyes;
Oh dearest! on Life’s vanished track
     How much of sunshine lies!

Men call us poor—it may be true
     Amid the gay and glittering crowd—
We feel it, though our wants are few,
     Yet envy not the proud.
The freshness of Love’s early flowers,
     Heart-sheltered through long years of want,
Pure hopes and quiet joys are ours,
     That wealth could never grant.

Something of beauty from thy brow,
     Something of lightness from thy tread,
Hath passed—yet thou are dearer now
     Than when our vows were said:
A softer beauty round thee gleams
     Chastened by time, yet calmly bright;
And from thine eye of hazel, beams
     A deeper, tenderer light—

An emblem of the love which lives
     Through every change, as time departs;
Which binds our souls in one, and gives
     New gladness to our hearts!
Flinging a halo over life
     Like that which gilds the life beyond!
Ah! well I know thy thoughts, dear wife!
     To thoughts like these respond.

The mother, with her dewy eye,
     Is dearer than the blushing bride
Who stood, three happy years gone by,
     In beauty by my side!
OUR FATHER, throned in light above,
     Hath blessed us with a fairy child—
A bright link in the chain of love—
     The pure and undefiled:

Rich in the heart’s best treasure, still
     With a calm trust we’ll journey on,
Inked heart with heart, dear wife! until
     Life’s pilgrimage be done!
Youth—beauty—passion—these will pass
     Like every thing of earth away—
The breath-stains on the polished glass
     Less transient are than they.

But love dies not—the child of God—
     The soothers of Life’s many woes—
She scatters fragrance round the sod
     Where buried hopes repose!
She leads us with her radiant hand
     Earth’s pleasant streams and pastures by,
Still pointing to a better land
     Of bliss beyond the sky!