With wingèd feet to virtue's glittering goal.
The songs and sufferings of our native land,
The faith that lifts her high all griefs above,
These, and thy daily tasks of heart and hand,
Thee too have raised, and with thee raised my love.
VIII.
My hand, made strong by years of manly strife,
Has taught my heart to love in manly sort;
I know thee now—a maid—one day a wife;
No more a phantom from the fairy court.