I will not have my patience tried By your absurd new-married pride, That scorns the world's slow-gather'd sense Ties up the hands of Providence, Rules babes, before there's hope of one, Better than mothers e'er have done, And, for your poor particular, Neglects delights and graces far Beyond your crude and thin conceit. Age has romance almost as sweet And much more generous than this Of yours and John's. With all the bliss Of the evenings when you coo'd with him And upset home for your sole whim, You might have envied, were you wise, The tears within your Mother's eyes, Which, I dare say, you did not see. But let that pass! Yours yet will be, I hope, as happy, kind, and true As lives which now seem void to you. Have you not seen shop-painters paste Their gold in sheets, then rub to waste Full half, and, lo, you read the name? Well, Time, my Dear, does much the same With this unmeaning glare of love. But, though you yet may much improve, In marriage, be it still confess'd, There's little merit at the best. Some half-a-dozen lives, indeed, Which else would not have had the need, Get food and nurture as the price Of antedated Paradise; But what's that to the varied want Succour'd by Mary, your dear Aunt, Who put the bridal crown thrice by, For that of which virginity, So used, has hope? She sends her love, As usual with a proof thereof-- Papa's discourse, which you, no doubt, Heard none of, neatly copied out Whilst we were dancing. All are well, Adieu, for there's the Luncheon Bell. THE WEDDING SERMON. 1 The truths of Love are like the sea For clearness and for mystery. Of that sweet love which, startling, wakes Maiden and Youth, and mostly breaks The word of promise to the ear, But keeps it, after many a year, To the full spirit, how shall I speak? My memory with age is weak, And I for hopes do oft suspect The things I seem to recollect. Yet who but must remember well 'Twas this made heaven intelligible As motive, though 'twas small the power The heart might have, for even an hour. To hold possession of the height Of nameless pathos and delight! 2