Poems on several occasions | ||
564
TO MY WIFE, ON HER BIRTH-DAY.
December 1st, 1717.
I
Hail, day, the fairest of the year!Which did to birth the virgin bring;
Less lovely opening buds appear,
Less sweet the violets of spring.
Nature her gifts on woman showers;
More beauteous, but as frail as flowers.
II
'Tis not the sun alone which gildsThe skies, or glads the smiling day:
Her form a livelier prospect yields,
And turns December into May.
May this revolving light dispense
Joy spotless as her innocence!
III
That only morn claims more regardWhich sees the maid in marriage given;
Since life itself, with love compared,
Seems but the second gift of heaven.
Long may the sister-days auspicious prove!
Long may the one give life, and the' other love!
Poems on several occasions | ||