HUSBAND AND WIFE

Though other women's husbands ride Along the road in proud array, My husband, up the rough hill-side, On foot must wend his weary way. The grievous sight with bitter pain My bosom fills, and many a tear Steals down my cheek, and I would fain Do aught to help my husband dear. Come! take the mirror and the veil, My mother's parting gifts to me; In barter they must sure avail To buy an horse to carry thee!

And I should purchase me an horse, Must not my wife still sadly walk? No, no! though stony is our course, We'll trudge along and sweetly talk.