 | My Lyrical Life |  |
188
A POOR MAN'S WIFE.
Her dainty hand nestled in mine, wee and white,
And timid as trembling dove;
And it twinkled about me, a jewel of light,
As she garnished our banquet of love:
'Twas the queenliest hand in all lady-land,
And she but a poor Man's wife!
O! little I dreamed how that dainty white hand
Could dare in the battle of Life.
And timid as trembling dove;
And it twinkled about me, a jewel of light,
As she garnished our banquet of love:
'Twas the queenliest hand in all lady-land,
And she but a poor Man's wife!
O! little I dreamed how that dainty white hand
Could dare in the battle of Life.
Her heart it was lowly as maiden's might be,
But hath climbed to heroic height,
And burned like a shield in defence of me,
On the field of sorest fight!
And startling as fire, it hath often flashed up
In her eyes, the good heart and rare;
As she drank down her half of our bitterest cup,
And taught me how to bear.
But hath climbed to heroic height,
And burned like a shield in defence of me,
On the field of sorest fight!
And startling as fire, it hath often flashed up
In her eyes, the good heart and rare;
As she drank down her half of our bitterest cup,
And taught me how to bear.
Her sweet eyes that seemed, with their smile sublime,
Made to look me and light me to heaven,
They have triumphed through bitter tears many a time,
Since their love to my life was given:
And the maiden-meek voice of the womanly Wife
Still bringeth the heavens nigher;
For it rings like the voice of God over my life,
Aye bidding me climb up higher.
Made to look me and light me to heaven,
They have triumphed through bitter tears many a time,
Since their love to my life was given:
And the maiden-meek voice of the womanly Wife
Still bringeth the heavens nigher;
For it rings like the voice of God over my life,
Aye bidding me climb up higher.
189
I hardly dared think it was human, when
I first looked in that glorified face;
For it shone as the heavens had opened then,
And clad it with splendour and grace!
But dearer the innermost light of it grew
In our dark and most desolate day,
As the Rainbow, when heaven hath no break of blue,
Smileth the storm away.
I first looked in that glorified face;
For it shone as the heavens had opened then,
And clad it with splendour and grace!
But dearer the innermost light of it grew
In our dark and most desolate day,
As the Rainbow, when heaven hath no break of blue,
Smileth the storm away.
'Twas a shape of the lithest Loveliness,—
Just an armful of heaven to enfold!
But the form that bends flower-like in love's caress,
With the Victor's strength may be souled!
In the light of her presence transfigured I stand,
And the poor Man's English home
She fills with the Beauty of Greece the grand,
Or the fairest Madonna in Rome.
Just an armful of heaven to enfold!
But the form that bends flower-like in love's caress,
With the Victor's strength may be souled!
In the light of her presence transfigured I stand,
And the poor Man's English home
She fills with the Beauty of Greece the grand,
Or the fairest Madonna in Rome.
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