III

But now, stand forth as sweet as life!

And let me paint you as a wife.

I note some changes in your face,

And in your mien a graver grace;

Yet the calm forehead lightly bears

Its weight of twice a score of years;

And that one love which on this earth

Can wake the heart to all its worth,

And to their height can lift and bind

The powers of soul, and sense, and mind,

Hath not allowed a charm to fade —

And the wife's lovelier than the maid.

An air of still, though bright repose

Tells that a tender hand bestows

All that a generous manhood may

To make your life one bridal day,

While the kind eyes betray no less,

In their blue depths of tenderness,

That you have learned the truths which lie

Behind that holy mystery,

Which, with its blisses and its woes,

Nor man nor maiden ever knows.

If now, as to the eyes of one

Whose glance not even thought can shun,

Your soul lay open to my view,

I, looking all its nature through,

Could see no incompleted part,

For the whole woman warms your heart.

I cannot tell how many dead

You number in the cycles fled,

And you but look the more serene

For all the griefs you may have seen,

As you had gathered from the dust

The flowers of Peace, and Hope, and Trust.

Your smile is even sweeter now

Than when it lit your maiden brow,

And that which wakes this gentler charm

Coos at this moment on your arm.

Your voice was always soft in youth,

And had the very sound of truth,

But never were its tones so mild

Until you blessed your earliest child;

And when to soothe some little wrong

It melts into a mother's song,

The same strange sweetness which in years

Long vanished filled the eyes with tears,

And ( even when mirthful ) gave always

A pathos to your girlish lays,

Falls, with perchance a deeper thrill,

Upon the breathless listener still.

I cannot guess in what fair spot

The chance of Time hath fixed your lot,

Nor can I name what manly breast

Gives to that head a welcome rest;

I cannot tell if partial Fate

Hath made you poor, or rich, or great;

But oh! whatever be your place,

I never saw a form or face

To which more plainly hath been lent

The blessing of a full content!