Poems by Hartley Coleridge :: :: University of Virginia Library

The earth once more hath run its annual round,
And smiles as faintly at the paling sun
As when by holy rite ye twain were bound,
And a glad brother's voice proclaimed ye one;

One in the Lord, as one in heart and choice,
For ye alike had chosen the better way,
And therefore will with holy glee rejoice,
When Autumn grave brings back the wedding-day.

All hath not haply been as young conceit
Of wedded bliss the story would compose,
But have ye found the song of love less sweet
Because translated into household prose?

Duties there needs must be, and toils, and cares,
And there may be some salutary pains,
That unexpected come and unawares
To all that walk in wedlock's lightest chains.

214

The man who tills the blessed Saviour's land,
Must sow a seed that oft is long a growing;
And she that would assist with patient hand,
Must water daily while her spouse is sowing.

The world besieges sore the wedded pair,
And many a charm of youth is early blighted,
But Heaven preserve ye both from fruitless care,
And bless the day whereon ye were united.