Edith Wharton

“ Could one grand line be smoothed from thy brow,
’Twould seem to me less stately and less fair.
O no, be as thou art! For thou dost wear
The signs of noble age that cannot bow
Thine intellect like thy form, and I who know
How each year that did visibly impair
Thy first fresh youth, left inwardly such grand
And gracious gifts, would rather have thee so—
Believe me, master, who erect doth stand
In soul and purpose, age cannot lay low
Till he receive, new from the Father’s hand
The youth he did but outwardly forego. ”

“ When our eyes grow dim and our hair turns grey
And we sit by the fire together,
’Twill seem strange to talk in a shivering way
Of our Summertime’s rosy weather;
When our eyes were bright, and our tresses smooth,
And the blood in our veins leapt red,
In the golden dawn of our long lost youth,
With the promise of life ahead. ”

“ Might well barter his chances of infinite bliss;
For her step is like sunlight that plays on the sea
And her bosom is snowy as snowy can be,
And her hair is a mantle inwoven with gold
Such as Queens might have worn in the legends of old;
And her chin oh so white, and her cheek oh so red,
They might well drive a man who should look at them mad;
But beneath the bright breast where her heart ought to be,
What is there? Why a trap to catch fools, sir, like me!
October, 1878.
{29}
Daisies. ”