Lines in Pleasant Places Rhythmics of many moods and quantities. Wise and otherwise |
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THE GOLDEN WEDDING. |
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 | Lines in Pleasant Places |  |
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THE GOLDEN WEDDING.
“Hail, wedded love!” thus Milton sung,
With happy and exultant tongue,
Greeting the first pair, fresh and young,
But more to prize
The love that, in life's morning sprung,
Age sanctifies.
With happy and exultant tongue,
Greeting the first pair, fresh and young,
But more to prize
The love that, in life's morning sprung,
Age sanctifies.
At first, 'tis but a roseate gleam,
A strain of music in a dream,
A light upon a tranquil stream,
No threat of harm,
The smiling heavens a radiant beam
Of promise warm;
A strain of music in a dream,
A light upon a tranquil stream,
No threat of harm,
The smiling heavens a radiant beam
Of promise warm;
But the fierce trial happens soon,
The care of life, before its noon,
Chilleth the heart to joy attune,
And then, perhaps,
Love's stocks, all up in Hope's balloon,
Suffer collapse.
The care of life, before its noon,
Chilleth the heart to joy attune,
And then, perhaps,
Love's stocks, all up in Hope's balloon,
Suffer collapse.
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But, when well grounded, cares may press,
And sorrow come, with keen distress,
And fortune fail, no whit the less
Doth true love shine:
It showeth then its power to bless—
Its source divine.
And sorrow come, with keen distress,
And fortune fail, no whit the less
Doth true love shine:
It showeth then its power to bless—
Its source divine.
And age may come, its whitening snow
Upon the furrowed brow to throw,
But, with the loving heart aglow,
No icy chill
Will check the spirit's cheerful flow,
Defying ill.
Upon the furrowed brow to throw,
But, with the loving heart aglow,
No icy chill
Will check the spirit's cheerful flow,
Defying ill.
Such love is this we crown to-night,
Which burns more fervent in its light,
As, in his ever-restless flight,
'Tis tried by Time,
And, with a radiance pure and bright,
It glows sublime.
Which burns more fervent in its light,
As, in his ever-restless flight,
'Tis tried by Time,
And, with a radiance pure and bright,
It glows sublime.
Thank God for wedded love like theirs!
—Meet cause for blessing and for prayers—
Theirs is the bliss the angel shares;
Their ripened joy,
In home's delightful evening airs,
Hath no alloy.
—Meet cause for blessing and for prayers—
Theirs is the bliss the angel shares;
Their ripened joy,
In home's delightful evening airs,
Hath no alloy.
The golden season of the soul,
Life's Indian Summer's sweet control,
The border-land, with the bright goal
Broadly in sight,
That waits the just—Heaven's gracious dole—
Is theirs to-night.
Life's Indian Summer's sweet control,
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Broadly in sight,
That waits the just—Heaven's gracious dole—
Is theirs to-night.
May their serene descending sun
Shine back o'er fields of duty done,
Of strifes encountered—victories won—
Till, hand in hand,
They pass, love's endless race to run
In heaven's blest land.
Shine back o'er fields of duty done,
Of strifes encountered—victories won—
Till, hand in hand,
They pass, love's endless race to run
In heaven's blest land.
| Lines in Pleasant Places | |