To the Wife of a Poet -
O faithful friend! O gentle wife!
I know I may not and to-day
One drop unto thy " wine of life, "
Of love, or happiness, or pride;
I know 't is only mine to lay
One rose-leaf on the mantling tide.
O, what without thy sunny face,
Lit with the day-spring from above,
Were thine abode of song and grace, —
Art's fairy realm, joy's resting-place, —
Where now a sacred trio meet,
Power, innocence, contentment sweet,
Genius and infancy and love!
I know I may not and to-day
One drop unto thy " wine of life, "
Of love, or happiness, or pride;
I know 't is only mine to lay
One rose-leaf on the mantling tide.
O, what without thy sunny face,
Lit with the day-spring from above,
Were thine abode of song and grace, —
Art's fairy realm, joy's resting-place, —
Where now a sacred trio meet,
Power, innocence, contentment sweet,
Genius and infancy and love!
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