Which shines for thee in Trixey’s tender eyes,
And warms thee to our English home:—and one
The moonshine of a watchful Ma-in-law,
Who in her household orbit keeps her child
To pine for other spheres. The Mother smiles
At that white feather in thy jaunty cap;
Her maiden daughter’s marriage does not rob
Her of her close associate; her daughter
Is happy, never leaving her; but thou,
New Son-in-law, her watchful woman’s eyes—