In Cornwall and Across the Sea With Poems Written in Devonshire. By Douglas B. W. Sladen |
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TO A LADY ON HER TWENTY-SECOND BIRTHDAY.
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 | In Cornwall and Across the Sea |  |
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TO A LADY ON HER TWENTY-SECOND BIRTHDAY.
E. M. N.
I knew you when, scarce more than child,
You had but now left school,
A little shy, a little wild,
A madcap of misrule.
You had but now left school,
A little shy, a little wild,
A madcap of misrule.
I treasure yet the greeting smile,
The dainty change of hue,
That fluttered through your cheeks awhile
At our first interview.
The dainty change of hue,
That fluttered through your cheeks awhile
At our first interview.
Welcome and graciousness were writ
As now upon your face,
Although you had not all your wit
Or all your present grace.
As now upon your face,
Although you had not all your wit
Or all your present grace.
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By you I lived two golden years
Beneath a cloudless sky,
Without a thought of wrath or tears,
In closest sympathy.
Beneath a cloudless sky,
Without a thought of wrath or tears,
In closest sympathy.
I watched the growth of that sweet flower
We call your womanhood,
Saw it develop hour by hour,
Each leaf and blossom good.
We call your womanhood,
Saw it develop hour by hour,
Each leaf and blossom good.
Daily the blossoms sweeter grew,
More shapely in their growth,
While kept the leaves the tender hue
And softness of their youth.
More shapely in their growth,
While kept the leaves the tender hue
And softness of their youth.
You were like sister, in a land
Where sisters I had none,
To whom I told whate'er I planned,
And shewed whate'er I'd done.
Where sisters I had none,
To whom I told whate'er I planned,
And shewed whate'er I'd done.
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While neighbours never spoke we word
We fain had spoken not,
And nought between us e'er occurred
Which we should wish forgot.
We fain had spoken not,
And nought between us e'er occurred
Which we should wish forgot.
And then we left the dear old place,
I in fresh lands to roam,
And you with travel to efface
The loss of your old home.
I in fresh lands to roam,
And you with travel to efface
The loss of your old home.
Once more a few brief weeks we spent
In the familiar town,
But not in the old way which lent
To every hour its crown.
In the familiar town,
But not in the old way which lent
To every hour its crown.
For cares we could not obviate
Kept us too far apart,
Although they varied not the state
Of friendly heart to heart.
Kept us too far apart,
Although they varied not the state
Of friendly heart to heart.
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We parted once again to roam,
Whither we scarce had planned,
Until we found—myself at home,
You in my native land.
Whither we scarce had planned,
Until we found—myself at home,
You in my native land.
We met, not as we parted last,
But as we first had met,
As if two absent years had passed
Just for us to forget.
But as we first had met,
As if two absent years had passed
Just for us to forget.
We met with no distracting care
To pilfer precious hours,
And reinstalled the friendship rare
Which in old days was ours.
To pilfer precious hours,
And reinstalled the friendship rare
Which in old days was ours.
And then I saw the stately growth
Of your full womanhood,
Still with the tenderness of youth,
As with spring leaves, endued,
Of your full womanhood,
Still with the tenderness of youth,
As with spring leaves, endued,
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And with rich blossoms of the mind,
And blossoms of the soul,
In hue and scent and shape refined,
Harmonious with the whole.
And blossoms of the soul,
In hue and scent and shape refined,
Harmonious with the whole.
Ungracious words you never spoke,
Or did once graceless act,
Nor pet illusion ever broke
For want of woman's tact.
Or did once graceless act,
Nor pet illusion ever broke
For want of woman's tact.
Fair women were my idols e'er;
Sweet maids have I known well,
But never one, where soul more fair,
In fairer shape did dwell.
Sweet maids have I known well,
But never one, where soul more fair,
In fairer shape did dwell.
White soul the Roman bard would call
The spirit in your breast,
And this expression—all in all
Portrays its pureness best.
The spirit in your breast,
And this expression—all in all
Portrays its pureness best.
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As years roll on, we two shall roam
O'er many a sea and land,
But I shall always feel it home
Where I can hold your hand.
O'er many a sea and land,
But I shall always feel it home
Where I can hold your hand.
| In Cornwall and Across the Sea | |