THE WIFE'S LOVER.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 400, 7 September 1889, Page 3

THE WIFE'S LOVER.

I have a lover, I. 'Tis long indeed Since from my husband's lips sweet praises came, Since all my pains have earned one small thank's meed Or one poor fault of mine gone free from blame ; But thon my lover ' All I do is best ; No plan, no deed, but makes him now surprise That I should bo so skilled, so kind, so wise ; Whether I work, or sport, or sit at rest, That way I am dearest, lie most proud of me— — Only that sometimes he will lake aspite At some light task he deems for me not light, . And crently tyrannous, have me let it be. Well, ho forgets ; we have been wed so Bnt in my 'heart I have him. who but ho 1 My lover in whoso eyes I did no wrong. I nm not lonoly qni*3 though day by day. Evening by evening T am thus alone. My lover never has quite gone away Who talked with mo— ah, in how dear i tone; < , , , T ' Who looked at me whene or ho spoko or I, And whon ho looked 'twns softly ; not However light T spoke him. fell unheard ; Even h^'d spjak for sake of my reply. • Ah 'Iremcmbor. though to him Us nought. How in the earlier yoais ho could not find, With me not notvv, a. pleasure to his mind ;

How, hurrying home, from room I<> ho sought For me, me sole, me he could never spare, Me whom he needed for his overy thought. Whom his heart needed as his life the air. A star may long have perished, yet its beam. Reaching our world, shines and exists to us ; Onr happiness, however spent it seem. Exists to me, sending its brightness thur. 'Twill last, I think, for all my lifetime yet And keep me from the darkness I might, know If in this world there we^e no long ago, If, being his wife, I could like him forget, I might be wearier (life's a drowsy round', I might be lonelier, might shed foolish tears, B\it for the love, the lover of far years, . But that same trifling thing, a scent, a sound, A gift he gavo mo then, a book wo read, Brings all that was anew, aad I have found, Though ho forgets, the lover whom I wed. Hlo will remember when it is good-bye, 'His hand that, tenderly will hold mine fast Will be again my lover's while I die ; And afterward when he recalls the past I know 'twill bo as though through all our life I had been what I used to be to him, As though our sunshine never had grown dim And I had been his love as well as wife Always. He'll think 'twas always ; he'll, I gone, Forget I wearied him and pleased him ill, Forget, not the old love, but this long chill. Reading, through tears, my name upon my stone, He'll think he misses me, as though I had been Someone he always needed, prized, now still. 'Twas once, and he'll forget the while ber tweer. I have not lost my lover ; no, not lost ; No more than lilies have been lost whose root Is in the earth while the dead leaves are tossed On chilly gusts and autumn is afoot : Within the root there live the burl and leaf, And in one's heart of memory the flowers Live on that were abloom in happy hoars. T love my lover ; I make little gricr ; I have my lover, him who took my youth. And kept it very happy some years long; But youth has waned ; yot in my heart too strong, For I desire youth's happiness, in sooth, Of being loved and praised, and that's gone by. Well, I am morry at the true, true truth ; Not lonely, I ! I have a lover, I ! Augusta Webster, in "Good Words."