So—we parted. I said it were better we should—
That she could forget me—I knew that she could;
For I never was worthy so tender a heart,
And so for her sake it were better to part.
She averted her gaze, and she sighed and looked sad
As I held out my hand—for the ring that she had—
With the bitterer speech that I hoped she might be
Resigned to look up and be happy with me.
'Twas a test, as I said—but God pity your grief,
At a moment like this when a smile of relief
Shall leap to the lips of the woman you prize,
And no mist of distress in her glorious eyes.
A SONG FOR CHRISTMAS
Chant me a rhyme of Christmas—
Sing me a jovial song,—
And though it is filled with laughter,
Let it be pure and strong.
Let it be clear and ringing,
And though it mirthful be,
Let a low, sweet voice of pathos
Run through the melody.
Sing of the hearts brimmed over
With the story of the day—
Of the echo of childish voices
That will not die away.—
Of the blare of the tasselled bugle,
And the timeless clatter and beat
Of the drum that throbs to muster
Squadrons of scampering feet.—
Of the wide-eyed look of wonder,
And the gurgle of baby-glee,
As the infant hero wrestles
From the smiling father's knee.