 | The heir of the world, and lesser poems |  |
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TO GENEVIEVE.
'Twas on a glorious summer eve when first we met, my love!
And bloom was on the gladdened earth and light in heaven above;
And gaily rose our spirits then and blessedness was ours,
For o'er us came the rosy breath of Eden's holy bowers.
And bloom was on the gladdened earth and light in heaven above;
And gaily rose our spirits then and blessedness was ours,
For o'er us came the rosy breath of Eden's holy bowers.
Bright rose the fair autumnal sun, that saw our fortunes blend,
And there was gladness in the look of each assembled friend;
Our vows were given—our fortunes sealed—and we together passed
Forth to the cold unfeeling world to love unto the last.
And there was gladness in the look of each assembled friend;
Our vows were given—our fortunes sealed—and we together passed
Forth to the cold unfeeling world to love unto the last.
For many a day of joy we loved as few can love below,
Each other's trials gladly shared and soothed each other's wo,
For in thy arms I half forgot the woes that had been mine,
And on my bosom thou didst sleep as none had e'er been thine.
Each other's trials gladly shared and soothed each other's wo,
For in thy arms I half forgot the woes that had been mine,
And on my bosom thou didst sleep as none had e'er been thine.
Though deadly foes aspersed our fame—yet we were ever blessed,
And found our home a lovely place of happiness and rest;
And none could sever—though they strove—our wedded hearts, that grew
Yet closer to each other—still—forever fond and true.
And found our home a lovely place of happiness and rest;
And none could sever—though they strove—our wedded hearts, that grew
Yet closer to each other—still—forever fond and true.
215
But now thou art far away from him, whose sorrows thou dost share,
And evil men are round thee, love! to haunt thee to despair;
And demon tongues are busy now—the dastard and the base,
That would o'ercloud my honest fame and seal thy last disgrace.
And evil men are round thee, love! to haunt thee to despair;
And demon tongues are busy now—the dastard and the base,
That would o'ercloud my honest fame and seal thy last disgrace.
But thou wilt come again to me—as in the days gone by,
And we shall read our blessedness in every foeman's eye;
And then the season shall be ours when holy love is heaven,
To few below—the chosen few of highborn feeling given.
And we shall read our blessedness in every foeman's eye;
And then the season shall be ours when holy love is heaven,
To few below—the chosen few of highborn feeling given.
| The heir of the world, and lesser poems | |