a touch;
We love one creature for being much lov'd,
And we love another for loving much.

By delicate touches our souls are stirr'd,
Fraught with a meaning life never reveals:
I wonder the Bible says not a word
Of the faithful love that a good dog feels.

Good are the mornings for birds in a nest,
Fluttering out from a beautiful home;
Good are the mornings, but evenings are best,
Seeking its shelter nor asking to roam.

Life, like a secret, is too much for one--
May be too little where numbers are great--
All _may_ be vanity under the sun,
But all _is_ charming when done _tete a tete_.

Neighbours _will_ call--what a trouble it is!
Dinners and parties are made for our sake:
Why must society trouble our bliss?
Dinners and neighbours are quite a mistake!

Drest as a bride, I must dine at the Grange;
Harry beside me, I have not a care;
Only it seems so exceedingly strange
Not to be thinking of meeting him there!

Jane does my hair with a skill, I confess,
Smilingly thinking of days that are gone,
When for a party I ran up to dress
With neither a husband nor maid of my own.

Life that is past, did you certainly pass?
When were you actual? how did you change?
Who is this girl that I see in the glass
Thinking of things that are happy and strange?

Who is this man who may enter the room,
Placidly certain his presence must please,
Settle her colours, select her perfume,
Hands in his pockets serenely at ease:

Who can the girl be, and who is the man?
Light-hearted creatures who live but to love!
'Tis the result of the Angels' kind plan,
One of the marriages made up above!

Hand laid in hand to the stairs we advance,
Feet scarcely touching the carpet at all:
Why should they walk who are able to dance?
Clasping each other, we waltz through the hall!

Pleasant the drive in the twilight's soft gloom;
Dazzling the change to society's light;
Proud of my Harry I enter the room,
Every eye on my gallant young knight.

Lovely the welcome around me I see--
Will it be thus through a beautiful life?
Everybody attentive to me,
And only because I am Harry's wife?

Dear to my heart are the glitter and grace;
But nothing so charming, or bright, is here
As the gracious smile upon Harry's face,
Or his manly voice as it greets my ear.

As from the banquet the ladies depart
I hear two gentlemen murmur