TO MY BELOVED WIFE, AT SEVENTY.
Threescore and ten! the blushing spring
Has changed to autumn's brown;
The glossy head, for auburn curls,
Now wears a silver crown.
Fair day of life, so rich in good!
So seldom tempest-tossed!
How joy and love have filled the space
Between the bloom and frost!
And thou half round the globe hast trod;
Hast traced, from distant seas,
The northern crown and southern cross,
And felt the tropic breeze.
Thy children, held in honor, stand,
Known in the world's highways;
Thy husband, too,—and he, with theirs,
This loving tribute pays.
And all thy steps, divinely planned,
God's loving care has led;
And countless blessings has His hand,
Like spring-flowers, round thee shed.
Threescore and ten! the limit reached
That human years may fill,—
God's covenant love, God's promised grace
Will shield and guide thee still.
And life's long path, through sun and storm,—
Blest boon to mortals given,—
Or smooth, or rough, at last shall prove
One long, sweet path to heaven.
Davenport, Iowa.
