FOR HER GOLDEN WEDDING, OCTOBER 18, 1875

“Lucy.” — The old familiar name

Is now, as always, pleasant,

Its liquid melody the same

Alike in past or present;

Let others call you what they will,

I know you'll let me use it;

To me your name is Lucy still,

I cannot bear to lose it.

What visions of the past return

With Lucy's image blended!

What memories from the silent urn

Of gentle lives long ended!

What dreams of childhood's fleeting morn,

What starry aspirations,

That filled the misty days unborn

With fancy's coruscations!

Ah, Lucy, life has swiftly sped

From April to November;

The summer blossoms all are shed

That you and I remember;

But while the vanished years we share

With mingling recollections,

How all their shadowy features wear

The hue of old affections!

Love called you. He who stole your heart

Of sunshine half bereft us;

Our household's garland fell apart

The morning that you left us;

The tears of tender girlhood streamed

Through sorrow's opening sluices;

Less sweet our garden's roses seemed,

Less blue its flower-de-luces.

That old regret is turned to smiles,

That parting sigh to greeting;

I send my heart-throb fifty miles

Through every line‘ t is beating;

God grant you many and happy years,

Till when the last has crowned you

The dawn of endless day appears,

And heaven is shining round you!