I used to be certain of perfect bliss,
And find it in every breath I drew;
And now the height of my happiness is
To lessen the sorrow that burthens _you_!
Thank God that we met when our lives were bright,
And earth was as fair as heaven above,
And stood in the lovely religious light,
And vowed the sweet vows to cherish and love.
O Harry, my dear! if we had not met,
What would you do with your desolate life?
O merciful God, can I ever forget
Your goodness in _letting_ me be his wife?
* * * * *
We walk 'neath the weight that we have to bear
(I suppose all people walk under weights);
They say that a road of trouble and care
Is the straightest road to the Heaven-gates.
I hope we shall find the gates open far,
So that close together we both come in;
I shrink from the thoughts of the gates ajar,
When only the one might an entrance win.
I wonder if Heaven is brighter yet,
Than the home that lies o'er a distant main;
I wonder if there we shall _quite_ forget
That we never saw that dear home again!
I must not be tired, or think of my load;
I must try to walk with a step more free;
I have to help Harry along the road,
That is so much harder for him than me.
Living alone in the depths of a wood,
Life catches meanings, and things become clear;
But Harry is growing so very good,
That it almost gives me a sort of fear.
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