‘FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE.’

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 48, 28 November 1891, Page 640

‘FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE.’

Quoth he, ‘ Sweetheart, thou art young and fair, And thy story has just begun ; But I am as old As a tale that’s told, And the days of my youth are done.’ ‘ < I’er ruins olden the clinging moss Doth a mantle of velvet spread ; Shall the climbing flower Be more to the tower Than I to my Love ?’ she said. Quoth he, ‘ Sweetheart, thou hast lands and gold, And thou knowest not want nor woe ; As a beggar poor I stand at the door And I only can love thee so. ’ ‘ Through leafless forests the sunbeams creep, All the wealth of their gold to shed ; And are they more fair To the woodland bare Than I to my Love ?’ she said. Quoth he, ‘ Sweetheart, thou art good and kind, And would’st never the lowest spurn ; But the storm of life With its toil ami strife Has rendered me harsh and stern.’ ‘ The brooklet murmurs its sweetest lays As it makes for the rocks ahead ; Shall the streamlet’s song Be more brave and strong Than I for my Love ’’ she said. Quoth he, ‘ Sweetheart, thou art blithe and gay, And thou never hast known a care ; But my face is worn And my heart is torn With the sorrow I’ve had to beai.’ ‘ The stars ne’er spangle the sapphire sky Till the brightness of day has fled : Shall the pale star-light Be truer to-night Than I to my Love ?’ she said. Quoth he, ‘Sweetheart, who art young and fair, Will thy wonderful love to me Through sorrow or shame Be always the same?’ ‘ Nay, it rather will grow,’ said she. Again he cried, ‘ Will it last, Sweetheart, Till thy lover lies cold and dead, And thy latest breath Has been hushed in death ?’ ‘ Aye, longer than that,’ she said.

Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler.