THE GOLDEN WEDDING

By Evaleen Stein

More sweet than all the buds that blow

Where summer’ s rarest roses grow,

More splendid than white lily spires,

Or shining, scarlet poppy fires,

Love’ s fragrant flower,— even so,

The blossom of the heart’ s desires.

And richer than all fields enfold

Or all earth’ s burdened branches hold,

Than any autumn vintage red,

Or yellow sheaves new harvested,

Love’ s ripened fruit of mellow gold,

The sum of life, when all is said.