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THE MAIDEN WIFE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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39

THE MAIDEN WIFE.

Others have taken here and there
A magic or a might,
The fire of passion, or a prayer
That trembles into light;
The peace of sunset, or the power
And promise of the morn,
The freshness of the opening flower,
Its blushes and its thorn;
A page from pansies, or a line
From lilies ere they close,
A lesson from the eglantine,
Its rapture from the rose.
But thou, from ocean and from air,
Hast caught each wildest grace,
Turned into something yet more fair,
To triumph in thy face;—
The glory of the longest days,
The sweetness of the nights,
The hauntings of unearthly rays
That throb in Northern lights;
The snow lies on thy summer charms,
To make a perfect frame,
And in the heaven that is thine arms
The mingled frost and flame.
Others have eyes that quickly turn
To one of bolder hand,
And in his gaze with gladness burn
Or grieve at his command;
Red lips, that warm a welcome give
To fools that flattery teach,
And in those common kisses live,
With beauties ripe for each;
Caresses that are cold and cheap,
With favours free to all,
And bosoms that in laughter leap
At any lover's call.
But thou—thine eyes are never trained
To deck a public show,
By admiration yet unstained,
They guard their modest glow;
Thy lips, that all their treasures keep,
As they have ever done,
For passing strangers proudly sleep,
And waken but to one;
And, though thou art a wedded wife,
Thine is a maiden will,
That cannot lose its inner life,
And must be maiden still.