VI.

To be his wife! Calm all my soul is filling,

A calm too deep for smiles — or even tears;

A perfect trust to slumber subtly stilling

My whilom doubts and fears.

Each little common thing to me seems rarer,

My life each day becomes more dear to me;

Love, am I fair? Ah, fain would I be fairer —

And yet more fair for thee.

Like to a priestess some loved shrine adorning,

I deck the charms but poorly prized, till late,

The beauty once I held too slight for scorning —

To thee, now consecrate!

As if some god of old had stooped to love me —

Some star had pierced my darkness with its ray —

I worship thee — an idol throned above me —

Forgetting thou art clay.

Rejoicing in the gift that God has given,

I may forget the Giver. Love, I fear

Lest I shall e'en forget to sigh for Heaven —

When heaven for me is here!