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Dedication. TO MY FRIEND MARY ELIZABETH McCHESNEY
(In 1865).
The pathway to my heart by few
Is sought, to few that pathway known,
So deep a thicket round it sown,
With grass and moss and weeds o'ergrown
The path itself, half hid from sight.
And hadst thou come with knocking light
Or loud, then from my windows pain
Had looked, a dreary chatelaine
And bid thee from the house, unmeet
So bright a guest to entertain.
Is sought, to few that pathway known,
So deep a thicket round it sown,
With grass and moss and weeds o'ergrown
The path itself, half hid from sight.
And hadst thou come with knocking light
Or loud, then from my windows pain
Had looked, a dreary chatelaine
And bid thee from the house, unmeet
So bright a guest to entertain.
But thou, with shy misgiving sweet,
Upon the threshold for awhile
Didst pause, and then with footstep fleet,
And ready, gay, victorious smile,
As one unused to plead or sue,
Didst lightly cross it o'er, made bold
By love, and like the Greek of old
Sat down beside my hearth, and there
I found thee seated, kind and fair,
To all around thee giving grace,
As one that takes a wonted place,
Nor causeth toil, nor bringeth care.
Upon the threshold for awhile
Didst pause, and then with footstep fleet,
And ready, gay, victorious smile,
As one unused to plead or sue,
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By love, and like the Greek of old
Sat down beside my hearth, and there
I found thee seated, kind and fair,
To all around thee giving grace,
As one that takes a wonted place,
Nor causeth toil, nor bringeth care.
Then stay, dear friend, and be thou free
Of all my hospitality!
And doubt not I for thee shall find
Some leaf, some blossom, left behind,
Some bloom evanishing, some tone
That love and joy will not disown,
Some amber rosary of fair
Warm-scented beads, whereon a prayer
Yet lingers, or some amulet
Enshrouded in a golden fret;
And from my lute a strain shall flow;
And in my heart a flower will blow
From out life's very ashes kissed!
To life by thee, sweet alchemist!
Of all my hospitality!
And doubt not I for thee shall find
Some leaf, some blossom, left behind,
Some bloom evanishing, some tone
That love and joy will not disown,
Some amber rosary of fair
Warm-scented beads, whereon a prayer
Yet lingers, or some amulet
Enshrouded in a golden fret;
And from my lute a strain shall flow;
And in my heart a flower will blow
From out life's very ashes kissed!
To life by thee, sweet alchemist!
July 18th, 1875.
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