 | Selected poems by William J. Grayson |  |
15
TO MY WIFE
Dear wife! to Time's unmeasured store
Of countless ages past before
Full forty years are gone and more
Since first we met;
Since, hand in hand, with joy and pride,
We trod life's beaten paths and tried
Its mazy walks as side by side
We tread them yet.
Of countless ages past before
Full forty years are gone and more
Since first we met;
Since, hand in hand, with joy and pride,
We trod life's beaten paths and tried
Its mazy walks as side by side
We tread them yet.
Together we have borne its cares,
Together felt its hopes and fears,
Together wept with mingled tears
Our children dead.
Of infants, sons in youthful bloom
And manhood, hurried to the tomb,
We mourned, ah! how we mourned the doom,
The promise fled.
Together felt its hopes and fears,
Together wept with mingled tears
Our children dead.
Of infants, sons in youthful bloom
And manhood, hurried to the tomb,
We mourned, ah! how we mourned the doom,
The promise fled.
Not comfortless—the hand that gave,
That took them to an early grave,
That smites, in sorrow, but to save—
The hand of God.
The spirit healed by sorrow broke;
Peace to the troubled waves He spoke,
And bowed our hearts to meet the stroke
And kiss the rod.
That took them to an early grave,
That smites, in sorrow, but to save—
The hand of God.
The spirit healed by sorrow broke;
Peace to the troubled waves He spoke,
And bowed our hearts to meet the stroke
And kiss the rod.
16
Some yet remain to help us bear
Life's burden heavier year by year,
To stay our steps, our path to cheer,
Our love to claim.
And by their side a little band,
Our children's children, round thee stand,
With tiny fingers clasp thy hand,
And lisp thy name.
Life's burden heavier year by year,
To stay our steps, our path to cheer,
Our love to claim.
And by their side a little band,
Our children's children, round thee stand,
With tiny fingers clasp thy hand,
And lisp thy name.
Not all were thorns that met our view;
Life had its summer blossoms too,
And now its autumn bounties strew
Our downward way.
Content is ours, the modest share
In fortune's gifts of Agur's prayer,
And Faith that nerves the breast to bear
Life's darkening day.
Life had its summer blossoms too,
And now its autumn bounties strew
Our downward way.
Content is ours, the modest share
In fortune's gifts of Agur's prayer,
And Faith that nerves the breast to bear
Life's darkening day.
The lightest touch and stealthiest pace
Of Time have marked thy gentle face,
Have softer made its sweetest grace—
Its tender smile;
Erect thy form and ready still
Thy dextrous hand and active will
Each household duty to fulfill,
Each ill beguile.
Of Time have marked thy gentle face,
Have softer made its sweetest grace—
Its tender smile;
Erect thy form and ready still
Thy dextrous hand and active will
Each household duty to fulfill,
Each ill beguile.
17
Still in thy housewife world I trace
Order's first law—a fitting space
For each thing, each thing in its place
Confess thy care.
I see thee at the board preside,
Still ready and with matron pride
Alert and skilful to provide
Its choicest fare.
Order's first law—a fitting space
For each thing, each thing in its place
Confess thy care.
I see thee at the board preside,
Still ready and with matron pride
Alert and skilful to provide
Its choicest fare.
No cup so fragrant, strong and sweet;
No cloth more white, no tray more neat
Thy household elsewhere ever meet
Where'er they go.
And when the cheering feast is o'er,
Towel and steaming bowl restore
Your cup's bright polish, as before—
No stain they show.
No cloth more white, no tray more neat
Thy household elsewhere ever meet
Where'er they go.
And when the cheering feast is o'er,
Towel and steaming bowl restore
Your cup's bright polish, as before—
No stain they show.
Unwearied yet thy needles shine,
No seam, or stitch, so close as thine;
To mark, trim, cut, in faultless line
No hand so true.
Thy children's children know its aid
In many a dainty garb displayed,
For little rosy strangers made,
And mothers too.
No seam, or stitch, so close as thine;
To mark, trim, cut, in faultless line
No hand so true.
Thy children's children know its aid
In many a dainty garb displayed,
For little rosy strangers made,
And mothers too.
18
And deeper lines of Time may write
On form and face—if thin and white
The tresses once so darkly bright
About thy brow;
The cheery laugh, the spirit's play
That fairer made the summer day—
If these be hushed, nor light, nor gay
Thy footsteps now.
On form and face—if thin and white
The tresses once so darkly bright
About thy brow;
The cheery laugh, the spirit's play
That fairer made the summer day—
If these be hushed, nor light, nor gay
Thy footsteps now.
Yet all unchanged the spirit's form,
The steadfast heart so true and warm,
So prompt to give, in calm or storm,
Its ready aid;
A smile to joy, a tear to woe
Thy varied sympathies bestow
Like bounteous springs that ever flow
In sun or shade.
The steadfast heart so true and warm,
So prompt to give, in calm or storm,
Its ready aid;
A smile to joy, a tear to woe
Thy varied sympathies bestow
Like bounteous springs that ever flow
In sun or shade.
Assiduous at the sufferer's bed
By day, by night, with noiseless tread,
For fevered lips and aching head,
Thy hands supply
Cool draught or lotion and prepare
Powder, or pill, or coaxing fare,
At fitting times, with watchful care
And sleepless eye.
By day, by night, with noiseless tread,
For fevered lips and aching head,
Thy hands supply
Cool draught or lotion and prepare
Powder, or pill, or coaxing fare,
At fitting times, with watchful care
And sleepless eye.
19
More blest to give than to receive,
Thy generous heart delights to leave
No wish unmet—you only grieve
To give no more;
And friendship's token, great or small,
Ring, portrait, curl, or brooch, or shawl,
With careful hand you hoard them all—
A priceless store.
Thy generous heart delights to leave
No wish unmet—you only grieve
To give no more;
And friendship's token, great or small,
Ring, portrait, curl, or brooch, or shawl,
With careful hand you hoard them all—
A priceless store.
No gloomy passion ever stirred
Thy gentle breast, no heartless word
That wounds, has child or husband heard
From year to year.
Love ever comes of love; so soft and mild
Thy winning face, the stranger child
That meets thee seeks thy arms, beguiled
Of doubt or fear.
Thy gentle breast, no heartless word
That wounds, has child or husband heard
From year to year.
Love ever comes of love; so soft and mild
Thy winning face, the stranger child
That meets thee seeks thy arms, beguiled
Of doubt or fear.
Firm too as gentle, when the gale
And gloom of adverse years prevail,
When bent the mast and rent the sail,
With ready arms;
Not boastingly, nor rough, nor rude,
Of quiet but unflinching mood,
You fight the battle unsubdued,
In life's alarms.
And gloom of adverse years prevail,
When bent the mast and rent the sail,
With ready arms;
Not boastingly, nor rough, nor rude,
Of quiet but unflinching mood,
You fight the battle unsubdued,
In life's alarms.
20
Bright be its evening, like the flow
Of summer brooks, the mellow glow
Of sunsets, with no sight of woe,
No sound of strife;
And blest, for thee, its close and late;
Truth, hope and love beside thee wait,
And faith disarm the shafts of fate,
Dear faithful wife!
Of summer brooks, the mellow glow
Of sunsets, with no sight of woe,
No sound of strife;
And blest, for thee, its close and late;
Truth, hope and love beside thee wait,
And faith disarm the shafts of fate,
Dear faithful wife!
| Selected poems by William J. Grayson | |