TRUE LOVE.

Ask of the winds, that all around

In saddest requiem blow,

Wherein, and where alone, is found

True happiness below;

And when “in love” their answer is,

Would you love's secret know?

Consider both have equal rights,

And treat each other so.

Thus sang a poet months ago,

As o'er the world he roamed

And saw the home of dearest friends,

To desolation doomed;

A home where, years before, the bride

With heart of joy and glee,

Had welcomed to her heart's embrace

A bud of misery.

“A bud of misery,” you say?

Yes, thinking it a rose,

And little dreaming that its folds

No fragrance did enclose:

But so the after years have shown,

And blighted hearts are found

Where once affection reigned supreme,

And spread its joys around.

He loved her, but he never thought

That love should be expressed,

And slights that caused her keenest pain,

He never once redressed;

To me he often wished he'd been

To her a better man;

But urged to tell his wife as much,

He would not brook the plan.

Oh, ye! on whom some heart depends,

For all its store of bliss,

Withhold not from that tender soul

The loving word and kiss;

But, give expression to your love,

And make its bliss complete,

By giving those within your home

Unfettered love to greet.