a tale without a name.
55
The call. The father's brow grew dark with grief;
The mother wept aloud; and the stern bridegroom
Muttered something of woman's faithlessness,—
When, lo! a note was brought. 'Twas signed by
Herbert Gray; and read—"We two have grown together,
With such fond and earnest faith,—have loved each other
With such holy love, to sunder us is death. . . . ."
And when he spoke of Alice, his sweet bride,
He said—"The primrose better loves the shade,
The violet seeks a sheltered dell,
And there unfolds its sweets." One trembling line
Was writ by Alice' hand: and when the parents
Read it, ambition died within their hearts,
And they acknowledged there, before their guests,
Limits to parental law; for though a parent
May restrain his child, he must not barter
Her for gold.
The mother wept aloud; and the stern bridegroom
Muttered something of woman's faithlessness,—
When, lo! a note was brought. 'Twas signed by
Herbert Gray; and read—"We two have grown together,
With such fond and earnest faith,—have loved each other
With such holy love, to sunder us is death. . . . ."
And when he spoke of Alice, his sweet bride,
He said—"The primrose better loves the shade,
The violet seeks a sheltered dell,
And there unfolds its sweets." One trembling line
Was writ by Alice' hand: and when the parents
Read it, ambition died within their hearts,
And they acknowledged there, before their guests,
Limits to parental law; for though a parent
May restrain his child, he must not barter
Her for gold.
