To the Golden Wife
With laughter always on the darkest day,
She danced before the very face of dread,
Starry companion of my mortal way,
Pre-destined merrily to be my mate,
With eyes as calm, she met the eyes of Fate:
‘For this it was that you and I were wed—
What else?’ she smiled and said.
Fair-weather wives are any man’s to find,
The pretty sisters of the butterfly,
Gay when the sun is out, and skies are kind;
The daughters of the rainbow all may win—
Pity their lovers when the sun goes in!
_Her_ smiles are brightest 'neath the stormiest sky—
Thrice blest and all unworthy I!
