 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
EDGAR'S WIFE.
I know that Edgar's kind and good,
And I know my home is fine,
If I only could live in it, mother,
And only could make it mine.
And I know my home is fine,
If I only could live in it, mother,
And only could make it mine.
You need not look at me and smile,
In such a strange, sad way;
I am not out of my head at all,
And I know just what I say.
In such a strange, sad way;
I am not out of my head at all,
And I know just what I say.
I know that Edgar freely gives
Whate'er he thinks will please;
But it 's what we love that brings us good,
And my heart is not in these.
Whate'er he thinks will please;
But it 's what we love that brings us good,
And my heart is not in these.
Oh, I wish I could stand where the maples
Drop their shadows, cool and dim;
Or lie in the sweet red clover,
Where I walked, but not with him!
Drop their shadows, cool and dim;
Or lie in the sweet red clover,
Where I walked, but not with him!
Nay, you need not mind me, mother,
I love him—or at the worst,
I try to shut the past from my heart;
But you know he was not the first!
I love him—or at the worst,
I try to shut the past from my heart;
But you know he was not the first!
And I strive to make him feel my life
Is his, and here, as I ought;
But he never can come into the world
That I live in, in my thought.
Is his, and here, as I ought;
But he never can come into the world
That I live in, in my thought.
For whether I wake, or whether I sleep,
It is always just the same;
I am far away to the time that was,
Or the time that never came.
It is always just the same;
I am far away to the time that was,
Or the time that never came.
Sometimes I walk in the paradise,
That, alas! was not to be;
Sometimes I sit the whole night long
A child on my father's knee;
That, alas! was not to be;
Sometimes I sit the whole night long
A child on my father's knee;
And when my sweet sad fancies fun
Unheeded as they list,
They go and search about to find
The things my life has missed.
Unheeded as they list,
They go and search about to find
The things my life has missed.
Aye! this love is a tyrant always,
And whether for evil or good,
Neither comes nor goes for our bidding,—
But I 've done the best I could.
And whether for evil or good,
Neither comes nor goes for our bidding,—
But I 've done the best I could.
And Edgar 's a worthy man I know,
And I know my house is fine;
But I never shall live in it, mother,
And I never shall make it mine!
And I know my house is fine;
But I never shall live in it, mother,
And I never shall make it mine!
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |