Metrical tales, and other poems; - Electric Scotland

THE LADY S SONG.
And dearer still, as time rolled on,
To Eeginald became
The wife to -wliom he gave at first
But friendship cold and tame,
And even blushed that men sliould think
He bade her bear his name.
Her pure, unselfish, gentle soul
Bestowed a nameless grace
On all the actions of her life.
And beautified her face.
Till friendship in her husband's breast
To boundless love gave place.
May never pure and patient love
Inspire a less regard.
Nor less of woman's soothing care
Be given the faithful bard
Who strikes the lyre for love and fame
The minstrel's true reward.
THE LADY'S SONG.
'E told me not of treasured wealth,
Nor of a noble name.
From sires who wrote their titles high
Upon the roll of fame
;
He promised not that I should walk
In robes of silken sheen,
Nor deck my hair with jewels rare
As grace an Eastern Queen.
He did not plight his faith and troth
With vows to Heaven above,
But few and simple were the words
That told me of his love