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And if a sigh, a tender tear,
Could fall upon this festal day,
It is to think, another year
Of thy dear life has passed away.
Could fall upon this festal day,
It is to think, another year
Of thy dear life has passed away.
Thou art in manhood's glory now;
I will not think that time can e'er
Trace deepening lines on that fair brow,
Or tinge with snow that auburn hair:
And if across thy morning sky,
Some chastening shadows seemed to lower,
Oh, cloudless may thy noontide be,
And calmly bright thine evening hour!
I will not think that time can e'er
Trace deepening lines on that fair brow,
Or tinge with snow that auburn hair:
And if across thy morning sky,
Some chastening shadows seemed to lower,
Oh, cloudless may thy noontide be,
And calmly bright thine evening hour!
God bless thee, dearest! Words can say,
And heart desire, with anxious love,
No more than those few accents pray,
Of peace below and joy above.
Oh! may His blessing on thee rest,
In every scene, in every hour;—
The heart of her who loves thee best,
Can ask for thee, can wish no more.
And heart desire, with anxious love,
No more than those few accents pray,
Of peace below and joy above.
Oh! may His blessing on thee rest,
In every scene, in every hour;—
The heart of her who loves thee best,
Can ask for thee, can wish no more.
E.
October 6, 1839.
