by Rose Hartwick Thorpe
Dear heart of my heart,
Throbbing close to my breast
With fondest and truest pulsation,
List while I repeat
The old story, my sweet,
In the language of love's adoration!
O, life of my life,
All the purest and best
Of my manhood warms in thy presence,
No unworthy part
Of my life or my heart
Has a share in the sweet of love's essence.
Pure soul of my soul,
Is there aught in my past
I would blush for your eyes to discover?
You have reared my throne,
With your fair hands, my own,
You have crowned me your king, your true lover.
O, pure heart and true,
All my future for you
Shall read clear as the spring's crystal water,
Thou lily-white dove,
In the arms of my love
I will shield you, my fair little daughter!
D Lothrop Company,Franklin And Hawley Streets,Boston