And then that clinging hand seemed worth Whatever joy was left on earth, And every trouble he forgot, And time and death remembered not: Kinder she grew, she clung to him With loving arms, her eyes did swim With love and pity, as he strove To show the wisdom of his love; With trembling lips she praised his choice, And said, "Ah, well may'st thou rejoice, Well may'st thou think this one short night Worth years of other men's delight. If thy heart as mine own heart is, Sunk in a boundless sea of bliss; O love, rejoice with me! rejoice!" But as she spoke, her honied voice Trembled, and midst of sobs she said, "O love, and art thou still afraid? Return, then, to thine happiness, Nor will I love thee any less; But watch thee as a mother might Her child at play." With strange delight He stammered out, "Nay, keep thy tears for me, and for my ruined years Weep love, that I may love thee more, My little hour will soon be o'er." "Ah, love," she said, "and thou art wise As men are, with long miseries Buying these idle words and vain, My foolish love, with lasting pain; And yet, thou wouldst have died at last If in all wisdom thou hadst passed Thy weary life: forgive me then, In pitying the sad life of men." Then in such bliss his soul did swim, But tender music unto him Her words were; death and misery But empty names were grown to be, As from that place his steps she drew, And dark the hall behind them grew. * * * * *