ACROSS THE HEARTH.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume IX, Issue 29, 16 July 1892, Page 720

ACROSS THE HEARTH.

Across the hearth of old, Love, I watched the young blood seek Your face. Your hair was gold, Love, The rose was in your cheek. Not to dead years belong, Love, Your gentle grace and pride— When I was young and strong, Love, And you a bonny bride. Though years have dimmed the light, Love, That sparkled in your eye, To me it seems as bright, Love, As in the days gone by. Though others may recall, Love, A fairer, smoother brow, I note no change at all, Love, Between the past and now. And well I know, my own Love, That every line they see Grew not from years alone, Love, But sprung from thought for me. And every silver hair, Love, That crowns your noble head Was whitening under care. Love, Before your youth had fled. My locks are thinning, too, Love, And I am feeble now ; But I have passed with you, Love, The years that marked my brow. And every groove has grown, Love, Since first, in manhood’s dawn, I took your hand, my own, Love, And it was not withdrawn. Across the hearth to night, Love, I see a faded face, But, by the flickering light, Love, A glory I can trace— The beauty of the heart, Love, That yet remains your own, And lives the better part. Love, Though all the rest has flown. E. L.