The Silver Wedding Day

When I was young, a dreaming boy,
Heart-fresh, and fancy-free,
It was my dearest, purest joy
To think what Life would be j
Upon some grassy bank to lie
Beside the murm'ring stream,
Look up into the cloud-fleck'd sky,
And think and feel and dream;
And watch the light leaves as they play'd
In the half-whisp'ring breeze,

And listen to the music made
By it among the trees;
That floating music — not alone —
Some lower notes were there,
The quiet brooklet's undertone,
Voices of earth and air:
And deeper music in my heart
Than utter'd song more sweet,
Which bore its own responsive part,
And made the chord complete.

Then would I dream, and float away
(Those fleecy clouds my wings)
Far down Time's track that dimly lay
Beyond all present things;
And in Life's pageant take my place,
My part would proudly bear:
All glorious deeds, all gentle grace
Assuming as my share; —
A tender swain! a gallant knight!
'Of chivalry the flow'r!

Now where the sword maintains the right,
And now in lady's bow'r;
Bold as a lion against wrong,
Yet with no tearless eye;
Now as the rushing whirlwind strong,
Now gentle as a sigh.
And ever by my side there moved
A form so soft and bright,
So near, so tenderly beloved,
It seem'd a part of sight;

It seem'd a part of sight, but yet,
By still more witching art,
Was deeper in my being set,
Of self the better part.
I see the dream of other days
Unalter'd to the last,
Amid that soft, illusive haze
Which gathers round the past.
I see it, as I saw it then,
The glory of my youth,
To which I turn'd from living men

And rested in as truth;
That fragile form which seem'd to bend
In every breeze of life,
And yet had inner strength to lend
To others in its strife;
That brow so calm, where quiet thought
Had rear'd its holy shrine,
And ever in its changes caught
Light from a life divine;
Those eyes so soft, I ne'er could prove

Them black or brown or blue,
Their colour was the hue of love,
And that was all I knew;
That mouth, of loving words the door,
Of playful smiles the home,
Whence naught the gentlest could deplore
"Was ever known to come;
That dark, soft hair, that, like a thought,
Shadow'd her holy face,
That gave, and in its giving caught,

Such depth of tender grace;
That air, so tranquil and so clear,
The breath of pure delight,
That with its golden atmosphere
Enwrapt her form in light; —
I see it all as in the dream
That to my boyish heart
Became — what first it did but seem —
Became of life a part.
Full forty years have pass'd away

Since by the river's side
A fondly dreaming boy I lay
From morn till even-tide;
And change and chance o'er all have been;
Youth's visions, one by one,
Have faded from the passing scene,
Till almost all are gone;
All, save that form of light and love
That guardian angel guide,
Which, dropping gently from above,

Hath settled by my side;
Leaving her visionary sphere
To walk through common life,
Now known and loved for many a year
By the sweet name of wife.
Far other than the path I plann'd
It was my lot to tread,
The guidance of an unseen hand,
By ways I knew not, led.
Nor wealth, nor rank, nor worldly fame,

Nor pride, nor pomp, nor show.
Nor mighty deeds, nor glorious name,
Were ever mine to know.
All, all is changed from that proud look
Life did in childhood wear,—
My spear into a pruning-hook,
My sword into a share,
My steed into a staff, my might
To be but simply good,
My armour into robes of white,

My helm into a hood;
My mission, not to " ladye fair "
To do a good knight's part,
From danger rescue, and then wear
Her colours near my heart;
Nor by her pleasant bower to stay
And sun me in her sight,
Forget the duties of the day
And slumbers of the night;
But to the desolate and sad,

Those whom the proud despise;
To make the lonely mourner glad,
And bid the hopeless rise;
To tell of safety for the lost,
Of pureness for the vile,
A haven for the tempest-tost,
For misery a smile;
Beside the sick and sorrowful,
The wretched and the poor,
To brighten moments all too dull,

And help them to endure;
Amid the busy haunts of men
To meet them on life's way,
And turn them gently back again
From paths where they do stray;
With little show that man can see,
And yet with high intent,
For Him who gave Himself for me
To spend and to be spent;
Life's smallest duties growing great

Where holy motives move,
And glory gilding with its state
All that is done for Love;
A rank and name superior giv'n
In lieu of every loss,
One of the chivalry of Heaven!
A soldier of the Cross!
Such all my alter'd life hath been,
And now 'tis nearly o'er;
Changed, but with every changing scene

So little to deplore.
Th' unfading hues of living truth
To all its changes lent,
The end so like my dreams of youth,
The way so different.
But she, my bright and guiding star,
Of whom through all I dream'd,
She, as the real, passing far
What the ideal seem'd!
O how much dearer when she came

On earth to be my guide,
And took a form, and bore a name,
And settled by my side!
Its beauty from that fragile form
With dreams did not depart;
Far fairer now when, full and warm.
I press it to my heart.
The calm of that untroubled brow,
Bright in life's evening gleams,
Bending as softly o'er me now

As in my boyish dreams;
The sweetness of those eyes, whose hue
I now can clearly prove,
And yet believe I named it true,
When once I call'd it Love;
Those lips, unpractised to complain,
Doors of a heart at ease,
Which never let forth what could pain,
Nor kept back what could please;
That hair, as sunny and as bright

As round her maiden head,
With scarce one line of silver light
Across its darkness shed;
That quiet air of calm repose,
Like evening's golden hour,
Which stills, and yet entrances those
Who come within its pow'r —
All these, which I in youth did see,
In age beside me live;
But with a sweet reality

Which dream-land could not give;
And with a deeper, soberer hue,
The growth of silent years,
Which not from smiles more beauty drew
Than from life's tender tears;
Gaining, in what it seem'd to lose
Of freshness and of youth,
Those mellower tints the years infuse
When sorrow teaches truth.
My path below is nearly trod,

Nor far the time can be
When I must render back to God
The life He gave to me.
O that when I the trust restore
I may His grace obtain,
Having as little to deplore
As reason to complain.
For life to me hath ever been
With summer sunshine bright,
Of all, I would not change one scene

That mark'd it, if I might.
Though here and there some other lot
Than I had wish'd befel,
Truth never fail'd, nor love forgot;
All hath been wondrous well.
My share of sorrow and distress
Hath been in mercy sent,
But not one drop of bitterness
With all my Suffering blent.
I have wept tears of tender grief

When joy and I must part,
Tears, which have brought their own relief
Back to the stricken heart;
And places once so dearly fill'd
Around my happy hearth,
Are vacant now, for ever still'd
Its once delicious mirth:
But yet my soul does not complain,
Counting its treasures o'er.
Nor would I bring back one again

If wishes could restore.
Deep in their very loss there lies
What death cannot destroy,
I would not give my memories
For all another's joy.
No! blest beyond what words could say
Hath been His gentle care,
Who never turn'd His face away
Or answer'd not my prayer:
Who never kept me back from good,

Nor laid upon me ill,
But often in His mercy stood
Between me and my will.
Life is too short to tell His praise,
My joy in Him to prove,
Whose one long lesson all my days
Begins and ends with Love.