74
My vows to thee for a mere summer day,
But still to be unchang'd; it was most sweet
To share thy sunlight of prosperity,
Thine hours of brightness; now I only ask
To share thy sorrow, and to be to thee
All tenderness, and love, and constancy—
A feeling, lighting up thy desolate heart;
A fountain springing in the wilderness;
Or as the breeze upon the fever'd brow,
Soothing the pain it may not chase away.
