 | The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe |  |
TO MY WIFE ON HER BIRTHDAY.
What!—ty years?—I never could have guessed itBy any token writ upon your brow,
Or other test of Time,—had you not now,
Just to surprise me, foolishly confessed it.
Well, on your word, of course, I must receive it;
Although (to say the truth) it is, indeed,
As proselytes sometimes accept a creed,
While in their hearts they really don't believe it!
While all around is changed, no change appears,
My darling Sophie, to these eyes of mine,
In aught of thee that I have deemed divine,
To mark the number of the vanished years,—
The kindly years that on that face of thine
Have spent their life, and, “dying, made no sign!”
| The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe | |