 | Morning Glories : |  |
MY HUSBAND'S BIRTHDAY.
So you've reached your thirty-eighth birthday,
And by many a varied road—
I see that your hair is a trifle gray,
But you've toiled with a heavy load
Of life's care, and pain, and sorrow,
Upon your shoulders broad;
You have striven that each to-morrow
Found you nearer to heaven and God.
And by many a varied road—
I see that your hair is a trifle gray,
But you've toiled with a heavy load
Of life's care, and pain, and sorrow,
Upon your shoulders broad;
You have striven that each to-morrow
Found you nearer to heaven and God.
What matter if age creepeth o'er you,
Your spirit is young, still and bold;
The path of duty before you
Is paved with the purest of gold,
Not such as the brow of a monarch would grace,
Eclipsing the costliest gem,
That is torn from the bosom of earth's embrace,
More precious than diadem.
Your spirit is young, still and bold;
The path of duty before you
Is paved with the purest of gold,
Not such as the brow of a monarch would grace,
Eclipsing the costliest gem,
That is torn from the bosom of earth's embrace,
More precious than diadem.
Though many the changes your eyes have seen
In these few fast fleeting years,
O'er the graves of loved ones (now grown green),
You've shed many bitter tears.
On life's great sea your bark has tossed,
And adverse winds have blown,
And threatening clouds your skies have crossed,
Yet still the sun has shone.
In these few fast fleeting years,
O'er the graves of loved ones (now grown green),
You've shed many bitter tears.
On life's great sea your bark has tossed,
And adverse winds have blown,
And threatening clouds your skies have crossed,
Yet still the sun has shone.
Now down the stream of life you glide,
And steer toward setting sun—
May each day's close bring sweet repose,
As you think on the good you have done.
And steer toward setting sun—
May each day's close bring sweet repose,
As you think on the good you have done.
| Morning Glories : | |