The red rose paled before the blush
That mantled o'er thy dimpled cheek,
The peach bloom faded at the flush
That tinged thy beauty ripe and meek.
Thy milk-white brow outshone the snow:
Thy lustrous eyes outglanced the stars:
Thy cherry lips, with love aglow,
Burned ruddier than the blood-red Mars.
Thy sweet, low voice waked in my heart
Dead memories of my mother's love.
My long-lost sister's artless art
Lived in thy smiles, my gentle dove.
Dear Alice, how thy charm and grace
Kindled my dull and stagnant life!
From first I saw thy winning face,
My whole heart claimed thee for my wife.
I thought you'd make me happy, dear:
I sought you for my very own:
You clung to me through storm and fear:
You loved me still, though poor and lone.
My love was centred all in self:
Thy love was centred all in me:
True wife, above all pride and pelf,
My life's deep current flows for thee.
The finest fibres of my soul
Entwine with thine in love's strong fold;
Our tin cup is a golden bowl;
Love fills our cot with wealth untold.