THE PADDOCK
Hearts to fence from hurt or harm,
Opening minds from blight or soil.
Oh, the blessed daily round!
Sowing, weeding, letting be,
Now in patience watching, now
Revelling in discovery....
Kings and Queens might envy me!
Nay, and am I not a Queen,
Throned amid my world of love?
Monarch, servant, mother of
Little Andy, little Jean!
Better yet, ay! best of all,
Clearer every day to trace
The handwriting of release
—Patience brightening into Peace—
In the faithful furrow’d face,
In the heart more true than Truth:
With whose every throb I feel
As one cannot, quite, in youth.
Ah, in those chill years apart,
Dealing trustfully and true,
Nearer yet our natures grew;
That shared struggle heart to heart,
Soul to soul, more deeply drew:—
Till, so knitted now, so near,
So to one-ness are we grown,
Not one shred of me’s alone!
All I say, or mean, or do,
Hope, or dream, is mixt with you—
Andrew! are we one or two?
In the eternal years ahead!
Can we come more closely wed?
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