Emmeline

She grows apace, thy darling Emmeline!
Her heart, erewhile but two feet from the ground,
Beats at a higher level, in the line
Of many archers, pressing daily round;
She doffs aside the aim of Jones and Brown;
But, though a surer arrow has been set
By a young marksman from the neighbouring town,
It lingers on the string, — he speaks not yet.
When two love well, events must onward move;
She feels a winning hand is on the bow,
And, if he asks, she will not answer ( No;'
And Emmeline to him is life's sole mark,
He knows she loves him, and she knows his love;
Speed, gentle shaft! thou aim'st not in the dark!