She smiled into his eyes,—and oh! the look
Of perfect trust she gave
As he gathered her close, vowing the while
Allegiance unto the grave.
Well, they went away and made their world
As others had done before,
For the time being love blinding them
To the confine of its shore.
They were all-in-all to each other, alone,
And it mattered not a whit,
That, in the scheme of things outside the pale,
They were not permitted to fit.
Defiance they flung in the face of dissent!
Life,—was it not their right
To live it as they wanted to?
And they would, all warning despite.
Why burden the pages by writing down
Their history in detail?
Was ever yet such a compact made
That was known not to fail.
’Twas a question of time,—“The house built on sands”
From its moorings slipped away;
They who court Fate’s disfavor—or soon—or late,
“Pass under the rod” of her sway.
TO A BUTTERFLY
BUTTERFLY, Butterfly,
Roaming thro’ the air—
Flying here, flying there,
Flying—ev’rywhere.
Bending o’er the roses’ petals,
Drinking of their dew,
Then away—with quick dart—
Cleaving towards the blue!
Butterfly, Butterfly,
Roaming thro’ the air—
If I, like you, had privilege,
To wander ev’rywhere.
I’d spread my wings and soar up! up!
Straight to Heav’n’s door—
And when I got there Butterfly,
I’d roam no more!