 | Love ; or Woman's Destiny |  |
77
THIRTY-FIVE.
I'm thirty-five, I'm thirty-five,
Nor would I make it less:
Each passing year has kept alive
Some bud of happiness.
Who would a single link undo
From memory's heart-strung chain,
And lose a sorrow, losing too
The love that soothed the pain?
Why should I count my youth a loss?
Its holiest hopes survive.
I know the fine gold from the dross
Now I am thirty-five.
Nor would I make it less:
Each passing year has kept alive
Some bud of happiness.
Who would a single link undo
From memory's heart-strung chain,
And lose a sorrow, losing too
The love that soothed the pain?
Why should I count my youth a loss?
Its holiest hopes survive.
I know the fine gold from the dross
Now I am thirty-five.
I see the old moon softly rest,
Swathed in the new moon's rays,
And, cradled thus within my breast,
I hold my earlier days:
And gentle word and generous deed
Are living in my mind:
The planets, as they onward speed,
Ne'er leave their light behind.
And sufferings, like the dews of night,
That faded flowers revive,
Oh! I can value these aright,
Now I am thirty-five.
Swathed in the new moon's rays,
And, cradled thus within my breast,
I hold my earlier days:
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Are living in my mind:
The planets, as they onward speed,
Ne'er leave their light behind.
And sufferings, like the dews of night,
That faded flowers revive,
Oh! I can value these aright,
Now I am thirty-five.
I know the young have hopes more bright,
Nor would I shadow these;
A wildering joy is in the light
That happy girlhood sees.
How sweet the rose-bud's lip of red!
How sweet the rose when blown!
But never till the leaves are shed
Is all their sweetness known.
My youth has fled as roses fade
Whose sweets may yet survive,
And these may gladden life's lone shade,
Now I am thirty-five:
Nor would I shadow these;
A wildering joy is in the light
That happy girlhood sees.
How sweet the rose-bud's lip of red!
How sweet the rose when blown!
But never till the leaves are shed
Is all their sweetness known.
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Whose sweets may yet survive,
And these may gladden life's lone shade,
Now I am thirty-five:
And when my song of thirty-five
By smiling lips is sung,
And May and her fresh flowers arrive,
And all the world is young,
Oh, waste on me nor wish nor sigh,
But keep the shade in sight,
Where pale neglected flow'rets lie
I'm lifting to the light:
For in my heart, while Love Divine
Keeps human love alive,
The angel graces may be mine,
Though over thirty-five.
By smiling lips is sung,
And May and her fresh flowers arrive,
And all the world is young,
Oh, waste on me nor wish nor sigh,
But keep the shade in sight,
Where pale neglected flow'rets lie
I'm lifting to the light:
For in my heart, while Love Divine
Keeps human love alive,
The angel graces may be mine,
Though over thirty-five.
| Love ; or Woman's Destiny | |