html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }S when, some waymark reached at last,
The wanderer turns him back once more,
And pausing lingers o'er the past,
Then speeds him onward as before;
E'en so, when days like this return,
We feel another stage is gone,
And turn with eyes that almost mourn,
To gaze on hours for ever flown.
Mine own beloved! I scarce can deem
Another year has passed away,
So few the fleeting moments seem,
Since last I hailed thy natal day;
And yet in that short space our home,
Alas! both life and death has known:
One precious babe to cheer us come,
One faithful friend for ever gone,
'Tis solemn thus to stand beside
The waymarks of our path below,
And turn to watch the living tide
Of joy and sorrow's ceaseless flow;
To feel the weight of care and sin
Amid earth's narrow circlet bound,—
The woe without, the grief within,
One little year may compass round.
Yet, dearest, as we ponder o'er
Life's "mingled yarn" of good and ill,
Must we not gratefully adore
The love that has so blessed us still?
Yes, we indeed at least must own,
In pleasant lands our lot is cast,
And every year that we have known,
But adds fresh mercies to the past.
Thy natal day has come again
On wings of speed, and still to me,
It seems as if time's lengthening chain
But closer binds my heart to thee;
And if the lot which all must share
Has sometimes dimmed our pathway here,
Yet I have felt no grief, no care,
But what thy love could soothe and cheer.
God's choicest blessings rest on thee,
Beloved husband! may thy days
Be bright, and lengthened out to see
Thy children's children meet thy gaze.
And oh! may we, whate'er befall,
In love unchanged and changeless dwell,
And only part, when Death shall call,
To meet where none shall breathe Farewell.
E.