Poems (Eaton)/My Husband's Birth-Day

by Marcia Jane Eaton

MY HUSBAND'S BIRTH-DAY.

THE robin's song, this April morn,
 The sunshine on each glistening tree,
The healing on spring breezes borne,
 Remind my lonely heart of thee;
Does the bird's song awake such thought
 In thee, though far from home away?
Is the spring breeze with blessing fraught
 For thee, on this thy natal day?

The birth-day! comes not now that sound
 So full of hope as when of yore
Youth's pulses leaped with joyful bound,
 And life, whose untried scenes glanced o'er,
Seemed filled with love and beauty all,
 So heavenly radiant to the sight,
Without one shadowy cloud to pall
 The heart-loved fancy and delight.

But though past are our youthful years,
 And middle age around us throws
The weight of toil, of cares and fears,
 Rich are the treasures she bestows—
True love, which sweetens care and toil;
 Children, round whom our full hearts twine;
A trust in God whate'er befall,
 These are our blessings—thine and mine.

With these, our cottage home shines bright
 As ever youthful fancy burned;
With these, advancing years grow light,
 As toward the close the eye is turned;
With these, as birth-days come and fly,
 We'll meet their dawning with a smile,
Nor give one backward look and sigh
 For unreturning joys the while.

While many a heart by death is torn,
 Our home has never been bereft—
Lone and despairing thousands mourn—
 Our dearest blessings have been left.
While lives, which once together ran,
 By worse than death have been estranged,
The hearts of our loved household band,
 Through all these years remain unchanged.

Bless we the Father! every good
 And perfect gift by Him is given,
He guides us safely in life's road,
 To happier birth-day still in heaven.
For all the joy and sorrowing,
 Which past and present years record,
For all the unseen future brings,
 Through life and death—bless we the Lord.

Glen-Echo Home, April 2d, 1859.