I go; but not to leap the gulf alone.
I go; but when I come, 'twill be the burst
Of ocean in the earthquake,--rolling back
In swift and mountainous ruin. Fare you well!
You build my funeral-pile; but your best blood
Shall quench its flame.
_Rev. George Croly._
* * * * *
THE WORN WEDDING-RING.
Your wedding-ring wears thin, dear wife; ah, summers not a few,
Since I put it on your finger first, have passed o'er me and you;
And, love, what changes we have seen--what cares and pleasures too--
Since you became my own dear wife, when this old ring was new.
O blessings on that happy day, the happiest in my life,
When, thanks to God, your low sweet "Yes" made you my loving wife;
Your heart will say the same, I know, that day's as dear to you,
That day that made me yours, dear wife, when this old ring was new.
How well do I remember now, your young sweet face that day;
How fair you were--how dear you were--my tongue could hardly say;
Nor how I doted on you; ah, how proud I was of you;
But did I love you more than now, when this old ring was new?
No--no; no fairer were you then than at this hour to me,
And dear as life to me this day, how could you dearer be?
As sweet your face might be that day as now it is, 'tis true,
And did I know your heart as well when this old ring was new!
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.
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