Dearest, though I have sung a many songs,
Yet have I never sung one from my heart,
Save to thee only—and such private songs
Are as the silent, secret kiss of Love!
My heart, I say, so sacred was, and is,
I kept, I keep it, from all eyes but thine,
Because it is no longer mine, but thine,
Given thee forever, when I gave myself
That winter morning—was it years ago?
To me it seems the dream of yesterday!
You have not lost the face I married then,
Albeit a trifle paler—not to-night—
Nor I the eyes that saw then, and see still,
What every man should see in her he weds!
I wander ... wisely, let me, since my words
Conceal what none but you and I should know,—
The love I bear you, who have been, and are
Strong in the strength and weakness of your sex—
Queen of my household, mistress of my heart,
My children's mother, and my always friend;
In one word, Sweet, sweetest of all words—Wife!