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189

LINES.

OST thou not feel, dear Love, how every day
That in our own old home glides swift_ away,
Whate'er the appointed portion each must bear,
Of joy or sorrow, hope or chastening care,—
But closer draws the ties which bind us here,
And makes our place of rest seem doubly dear?
Yes; as we think of all the happy years
Spent here in love unchanged by cares and fears,—
That first bright morn of all unclouded hue,
When life and wedded love alike were new;
The advancing day, that still so calm and bright
But draws from passing clouds a purer light;
The treasured memories, every hour more dear,
The future hopes which still must centre /ere,
And more than all, the merry voices come,
To fill our hearts, to bless our quiet home;
We feel no spot on earth, however fair,
For us familiar charms like this can wear,
And own with grateful hearts, that every year
But makes our lot more blest, our home more dear.

And thus when now the bright October sun
Proclaims another year its course has run,
With love that strengthens as time slips away,
I turn to greet once more thy natal day.