html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }S from her grassy nest the skylark springs,
With eager haste, surprised to see how soon
The glorious sun has reached his hour of noon,
And sweeter e'en than at his rising sings;
No, dearest, when this morn returning brings
That hour of brightest hope—our bridal day,—
I start to think that on time's silent wings
Five years of wedded love have passed away!
And yet rejoice to feel that love still glows,
With all the fervour of its morning hours,
And only deepens with each cloud that throws
A warning shadow o'er earth's brightest bowers,
Veiling the sunshine which too often seems
To wither thankless hearts that ought to prize its beams.
E.