The lion's cub | ||
TO MARY BRADLEY.
I shall behold, I hope I shall beholdBefore the rainfall of to-morrow night,
A woman loved of old, who is not old,
To whom before I was my heart was plight.
My name with hers in Fate's great book enrolled,
Shines, as it ought to, in supernal light,
Twins, slumbering, smiling, on the arm of might,
The mystery of our being still untold.
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Your love as well as mine, diviner Powers!
Whose currents, shifting always, seldom vary;
For she was born beneath a gracious spell,
Somewhere and somehow in the countless hours
Before I Richard was, or she was Mary!
The lion's cub | ||