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James Whitcomb Riley - The Wife-Blessed
Work rating: Low

I.

  In youth he wrought, with eyes ablur,
    Lorn-faced and long of hair--
  In youth--in youth he painted her
    A sister of the air--
  Could clasp her not, but felt the stir
    Of pinions everywhere.


  II.

  She lured his gaze, in braver days,
    And tranced him sirenwise;
  And he did paint her, through a haze
    Of sullen paradise,
  With scars of kisses on her face
    And embers in her eyes.


  III.

  And now--nor dream nor wild conceit--
    Though faltering, as before--
  Through tears he paints her, as is meet,
    Tracing the dear face o`er
  With lilied patience meek and sweet
    As Mother Mary wore.
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