To our “ain fireside,” cheerly bound,

With our dear Rembrandt Girl, so brown,

Smiling serenely on us down,

I want you—Mary.

Now,—while the vigorous pulses leap

Still strong within my spirit’s deep,

Now, while my yet unwearied brain

Weaves its thick web of thoughts amain,

I want you—Mary.

Hereafter, when slow ebbs the tide,