 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
1066
A GOLDEN WEDDING
DECEMBER—1884
Your Golden Wedding!—fifty years
Of comradeship, through smiles and tears!
Through summer sun, and winter sleet,
You walked the ways with willing feet;
For, journeying together thus,
Each path held something glorious.
No winter wind could blow so chill
But found you even warmer still
In fervor of affection—blest
In knowing all was for the best;
And so, content, you faced the storm
And fared on, smiling, arm in arm.
Of comradeship, through smiles and tears!
Through summer sun, and winter sleet,
You walked the ways with willing feet;
For, journeying together thus,
Each path held something glorious.
No winter wind could blow so chill
But found you even warmer still
In fervor of affection—blest
In knowing all was for the best;
And so, content, you faced the storm
And fared on, smiling, arm in arm.
By why this moralizing strain
Beside a hearth that glows again
As on your Wooden wedding-day?—
When butter-prints and paddles lay
Around in dough-bowls, tubs and churns,
And all such “woodenish” concerns;
And “woodenish” they are—for now
Who can afford to keep a cow
And pestle some old churn, when you
Can buy good butter—“golden,” too—
Far cheaper than you can afford
To make it and neglect the Lord!
Beside a hearth that glows again
As on your Wooden wedding-day?—
When butter-prints and paddles lay
Around in dough-bowls, tubs and churns,
And all such “woodenish” concerns;
And “woodenish” they are—for now
Who can afford to keep a cow
1067
Can buy good butter—“golden,” too—
Far cheaper than you can afford
To make it and neglect the Lord!
And round your hearth the faces gleam
That may recall, as in a dream,
The brightness of a time when Tin
Came glittering and clanging in
And raising noise enough to seize
And settle any swarm of bees!
But those were darling times, no doubt,—
To see the mother pouring out
The “tins” of milk, and tilting up
The coffee-pot above each cup;
Or, with the ladle from the wall,
Dipping and serving mush for all.
That may recall, as in a dream,
The brightness of a time when Tin
Came glittering and clanging in
And raising noise enough to seize
And settle any swarm of bees!
But those were darling times, no doubt,—
To see the mother pouring out
The “tins” of milk, and tilting up
The coffee-pot above each cup;
Or, with the ladle from the wall,
Dipping and serving mush for all.
And all the “weddings,” as they came,—
The “Glass,” the “China,”—still the same
You see them, till the last ere this,—
The “Silver,”—and your wedded bliss
Abated not!—for love appears
Just silvered over with the years:—
Silver the grandchild's laugh you hear—
Silver his hopes, and silver-clear
Your every prayer for him,—and still
Silver your hope, through good and ill—
Silver and silver everywhere,
Bright as the silver of your hair!
The “Glass,” the “China,”—still the same
You see them, till the last ere this,—
The “Silver,”—and your wedded bliss
Abated not!—for love appears
Just silvered over with the years:—
Silver the grandchild's laugh you hear—
Silver his hopes, and silver-clear
Your every prayer for him,—and still
Silver your hope, through good and ill—
Silver and silver everywhere,
Bright as the silver of your hair!
1068
But on your Golden Wedding!—Nay—
What can I give to you to-day
Who am too very poor indeed
To offer what I so much need?
If gold I gave, I fear, alack!
I'd needs provide you gave it back,
To stay me, the long years before
I'd stacked and heaped five dollars more!
And so, in lieu—and little worse—
I proffer you this dross of verse—
The merest tinsel, I admit,—
But take it—I have more of it.
What can I give to you to-day
Who am too very poor indeed
To offer what I so much need?
If gold I gave, I fear, alack!
I'd needs provide you gave it back,
To stay me, the long years before
I'd stacked and heaped five dollars more!
And so, in lieu—and little worse—
I proffer you this dross of verse—
The merest tinsel, I admit,—
But take it—I have more of it.
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |