_To My Wife._

Sweet Lady, queen-star of my life and thought, Whose honour, heart and name are one with mine, Who dost above life’s troubled currents shine With such clear beam as oftentimes hath brought The storm-tossed spirit into harbours wrought By love and peace on life’s rough margin-line; I wish no wish which is not wholly thine, I hope no hope but what thyself hast sought. Thou losest not, my Lady, in the wife, The golden love-light of our earlier days; Time dims it not, it mounteth like the sun, Till earth and sky are radiant. Sweet, my life Lies at thy feet, and all life’s gifts and praise, Yet are they nought to what thy knight hath won.