by Gerald Massey.
Originally published in The Leader (Joseph Clatton, junr.) vol.1 #20 (10 Aug 1850).
Heaven hath its crown of stars, the Earth
Her glory-robe of flowers;
The grand old woods have music,
Green leaves, and silver showers;
The birds have homes where honey-blooms
In beauty bend above;
High-yearning hearts their rainbow dream,
And we, Sweet! we have love.
There's sorrow for the suffering poor
On Misery's bosom nurst,
Rich robes for ragged souls, and crowns
For branded brows Cain-cursed;
But cherubim, with clasping wings,
Ever about us be,
And, happiest of God's happy things,
There's love for you and me.
We walk not with the jewelled great,
Where Love's dear name is sold;
Yet we have wealth we would not give
For all their world of gold.
We revel not in corn and wine,
Yet have we, from above,
Manna divine; then we'll not pine,
Do we not live and love?
Thy lips, that kiss till death, have turned
Life's water into wine;
The sweet life melting thro' thy looks
Hath made my life divine;
All Love's dear promise hath been kept
Since thou to me wert given—
A ladder for my soul to climb
And summer high in heaven.
I know, dear heart! in our bright lot
May mingle tears and sorrow;
Well, Love's glad rainbow's built from tears
To-day, with smiles to-morrow!
The sunshine from our sky may die,
The greenness from life's tree;
But ever, 'mid the scathe and storm,
Thy nest shall sheltered be!
I see thee! Ararat of my life,
Thou smils't the waves above;
Thou hail'st me Victor in the strife,
And beacon'st me with love!
The world may never know, dear heart,
Half what I've found in thee!
But, tho' nought to the world, dear heart,
Thou ‘rt all the world to me!