30
A STORY OF OLDEN TIME.
"I am not fair as Marg'ret was; yet faces have grown bright
That nature made not so, methinks, when seen by household light;
And in the heart a mirror set hath shown them forth approved
In every look; not only they, the lovely are the loved!
For never hath my name been borne on tilt or tourney's din,
Nor minstrel ta'en it for his song, a sweeter praise to win;
Yet children leaving brighter dames have run in haste to press
Their rosy cheeks against my own, yes, children! they could bless
With unsought tenderness. Methinks a child upon my knee
Had been a pleader winning love both for itself and me;
A child's soft touch, perchance, had stirred the springs of feeling so,
That even to my lips had risen its strong, calm overflow.
Yes, even so, yet well I know these thoughts but bring unrest,
They strive, but may not better that by God marked out for best—
For me the best; for every path, the sun-lit and the dim,
The flower-strewn as the thorny Way alike have led to Him;
That nature made not so, methinks, when seen by household light;
And in the heart a mirror set hath shown them forth approved
In every look; not only they, the lovely are the loved!
For never hath my name been borne on tilt or tourney's din,
Nor minstrel ta'en it for his song, a sweeter praise to win;
Yet children leaving brighter dames have run in haste to press
Their rosy cheeks against my own, yes, children! they could bless
With unsought tenderness. Methinks a child upon my knee
Had been a pleader winning love both for itself and me;
A child's soft touch, perchance, had stirred the springs of feeling so,
That even to my lips had risen its strong, calm overflow.
Yes, even so, yet well I know these thoughts but bring unrest,
They strive, but may not better that by God marked out for best—
For me the best; for every path, the sun-lit and the dim,
The flower-strewn as the thorny Way alike have led to Him;
