THINE—ONLY THINE.
Reading edition
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BY MRS. CATHARINE H. W. ESLING.
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Thine—only thine,
The bland winds whisper it at every breath,
And thou art mine—
Mine thro’ all changes—mine alone till death.
Years will pass by,
And write their records upon either’s brow,
Will dim the eye,
But alter not one heart pulse beating now.
Changes will come,
And the light foot, less lightly tread the ground,
The gentle hum
Of voices, will have lost their softest sound.
And clinging ties
Will be dissever’d—from the household band
Some may arise
To the bright mansions in the “Happy Land.”
In all their youth,
The sunny gladness of their early years,
To realms of truth
Their spotless souls soar from “the vale of tears.”
Strong links may break,
Links that are twined around the inmost heart,
And dreamers, wake
To see their sand-built fabrics slowly part.
But thou wilt be,
Even as the oak, in all thy strength and pride,
An unscath’d tree,
While I, the Ivy, cling thy form beside.
And when we leave
The sunny paths of youth, where flowers grew bright
We will not grieve
That our brief morning hid its beams in night.
Edging each cloud,
Hope’s silver ray shall light us near and far,
No darken’d shroud
Can hide from us love’s ever-burning star.
Like noon’s sweet close
Before the shades of eve grow dim and dark,
When flowers repose,
And angels’ eyes day’s slow departure mark.
Like that, shall seem
Our parting from this world of earthly bloom,
And life’s calm stream,
Shall gently lave us as we near the tomb.
Thine—only thine,
The bland winds whisper it at every breath,
And thou art mine—
Mine thro’ all changes—mine alone till death.
Philadelphia, December, 1840.