A lover's diary | ||
233
III.
CHARITY.
Sweetly we live, my wife and I,
Sweetly, all the time,
As a May rose in her house of leaves,
Or a poet in his rhyme.
Sweetly, all the time,
As a May rose in her house of leaves,
Or a poet in his rhyme.
Oft in her pale and quiet cheeks
A dash of red doth show
Her heart is fluttering like a wheel
In the wave of love below.
A dash of red doth show
Her heart is fluttering like a wheel
In the wave of love below.
234
I call my good wife Charity,
And she blushes at the name,
Though she gave the light of her hair and eyes
To our baby, when it came.
And she blushes at the name,
Though she gave the light of her hair and eyes
To our baby, when it came.
Sweetly we live,—her gentle brows
Know not the way to frown,
And I never see that her head is gray,
And her shoulders stooping down.
Know not the way to frown,
And I never see that her head is gray,
And her shoulders stooping down.
A lover's diary | ||