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the marriage vow.
Speak it not lightly—though the young and gay Are thronging round thee now with tones of mirth,Let not the holy promise of to-day Fade like the clouds that with the morn have birth,But ever bright and sacred may it be,Stored in the treasure-cell of memory.
Life may not prove all sunshine—there will come Dark hours for all: O will ye, when the nightOf sorrow gathers thickly round your home, Love as ye did, in time when calm and brightSeemed the sure path ye trod, untouched by care,And deemed the future, like the present, fair?
Eyes that now beam with health may yet grow dim, And cheeks of rose forget their early glow;Languor and pain assail each active limb, And lay perchance some worshipped beauty low;Then will ye gaze upon the altered brow,And love as fondly, faithfully, as now?
