With the summer’s growth has grown,
Till our two lives, lived as one,
Make a summer of their own.
TWIN-SISTERS
Two girls—before me now they stand,
Twin tender rosebuds, hand in hand,
Fashioned as one—scarce known apart;
I see each face, God sees each heart.
I look on ripe red lips, and eyes
That hold the blue of summer skies,
And hair like finest gold refined;
I see the beauty, God the mind.
In womanhood’s first faint sweet dawn
Oh! they are fair to look upon;
Perfect from crown to dainty foot;
I see the bloom, God sees the fruit.
What though a rose is each soft cheek,
If theirs be not that spirit meek?
What though their eyes are heaven’s own hue,
If never wet with pity’s dew?
The plainest casket may enshrine
A gem that will for ever shine.
Oh, may this outward beauty be
But type of inward purity!
God grant when Time its tale hath told,
And backward swing the gates of gold,
Before the Master they may stand,
Twin tender rosebuds hand in hand!
AT LAST
She is waiting for his coming,
As she waited long ago,
Ere her sweet eyes were pain-haunted
Or her hair was touched with snow;
Ere that look of patient pathos
Downward curved her tender lips,
Or across her life’s young morning
Fell a shadow of eclipse.