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,