on my lap, and he did not move,
But he murmur'd softly, 'I am afraid
I shall make a fool of myself, my love.'

And then he suddenly burst into tears
(I had never seen tears in Harry's eyes),
And he cried, 'If I live a hundred years,
I shall see the wild face of Jack Devize!'

Then I felt the doom that was o'er us laid,
And our lives stood before me pale and gray;
My heart turn'd sick--I was feeling afraid--
As I kept kissing Harry's tears away.

And must his life be so faint and so dim?
And his heart be rack'd by a useless pain?
While I'm always trying to comfort him,
And always trying to comfort in vain?

Ah no, my beloved, it shall _not_ be so,
I will try so hard--I will pray so much;
Comfort will come to you, Harry, I know,
And grief die out 'neath her delicate touch.
We must both be brave and must play our parts;
We must fight the battle with weapons fit;
Time will take sorrow out of our hearts,
But oh, the pity--the pity of it!

There are no more secrets 'twixt you and me;
Our hearts may reveal their thoughts as they pass;
There is a ripple the less on the sea,
And a purer light flits over the grass.

If shadows are dark, and lights are not clear,
It is only the common lot of man;
We must live our actual lives, my dear,
And make the best of those lives that we can.

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