 | The semi-centenary and the retrospection of the
African Methodist Episcopal Church in the United States of America |  |
NOON.
How swiftly glide our mortal years,When Love doth wing each blissful hour,—
When all our hopes, and all our fears,
Are minions of his magic power!
Twelve years! Twelve moments in her life,
Since she became a happy wife!
All chains are riven save the tie
Which links her to his destiny.
What cares he for the glance of scorn
That mock him in his daily walk?
What, that each coming night and morn
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She, once his slave and now his bride,
Out-values all the earth beside.
And 'neath the orange trees he strays
With her, as in their younger days;
But not with her alone; for now
His hand doth press a maiden's brow
Whose flaxen curls and eyes of blue,
From her fond sires have caught their hue.
Beside them stands a dark-eyed boy,
Whose laugh rings out his infant joy,
As, now and then, comes flashing by,
The many-colored butterfly.
Oh! with such pledges of fond love
As thou dost mark in either boon,
Say, mother, hath not He above
Granted thy morn a fitting noon?
| The semi-centenary and the retrospection of the
African Methodist Episcopal Church in the United States of America | |