TO ONE WHO WAS TRIED
I read you thus, sweet friend, and noble woman,
Strong in your weakness, loving in your pain;
Holding this true as Christ's own precious teaching,
Bliss through another's anguish fails of gain,—
And hopes, whose rainbow arch o'er curves crushed longings,—
Another's longings, are but dreamings vain.
Strong in your weakness, loving in your pain;
Holding this true as Christ's own precious teaching,
Bliss through another's anguish fails of gain,—
And hopes, whose rainbow arch o'er curves crushed longings,—
Another's longings, are but dreamings vain.
I read you hold this true, and so, when meeting,
A test to prove you in this proffered choice;
Through the sweet under-current of your being,
1 think you heard a gently-cadenced voice
Bidding you take Christ's starry lamp of guidance,
Denying self, that others might rejoice.
A test to prove you in this proffered choice;
Through the sweet under-current of your being,
1 think you heard a gently-cadenced voice
Bidding you take Christ's starry lamp of guidance,
Denying self, that others might rejoice.
I think I know, how, in your fond caressing,
You held that gentle friend with circling arm,
Rejoicing you were strong to aid her weakness,
And guide her from the thorny ways of harm;
And how, with hand upon your heart, you stilled its throbbings,
Yielding to her what made life's sweetest charm.
You held that gentle friend with circling arm,
Rejoicing you were strong to aid her weakness,
And guide her from the thorny ways of harm;
And how, with hand upon your heart, you stilled its throbbings,
Yielding to her what made life's sweetest charm.
I know, how, in your fancies of the future,
A happy home rose as a picture fair,
Where love stood watchman o'er a flower-wreathed entrance,
And little children claimed your tender care;
And all the joys a woman's fond heart yearns for
Fell like a crown of blessings to your share.
A happy home rose as a picture fair,
Where love stood watchman o'er a flower-wreathed entrance,
And little children claimed your tender care;
And all the joys a woman's fond heart yearns for
Fell like a crown of blessings to your share.
And all this bliss that golden ring betokened,
That proffered ring that you might call your own;
And that rich roll of gold that symboled to you
The wealth of love that should be yours alone,—
If only you could stifle the remembrance
Another's heart must throb a ceaseless moan.
That proffered ring that you might call your own;
And that rich roll of gold that symboled to you
The wealth of love that should be yours alone,—
If only you could stifle the remembrance
Another's heart must throb a ceaseless moan.
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