Part 2 — TO MY WIFE.

When that chaste blush suffused thy cheek and brow, Whitened anon with a pale maiden fear, Thou shrank'st in uttering what I burned to hear: And yet I loved thee, love, not then as now. Years and their snows have come and gone, and graves, Of thine and mine, have opened; and the sod Is thick above the wealth we gave to God: Over my brightest hopes the nightshade waves; And wrongs and wrestlings with a wretched world, Gray hairs, and saddened hours, and thoughts of gloom, Troop upon troop, dark-browed, have been my doom; And to the earth each hope-reared turret hurled! And yet that blush, suffusing cheek and brow, 'T was dear, how dear! then—but 't is dearer now.