I <br /> <br />One happy year has fled, Sall, <br />Since you were all my own, <br />The leaves have felt the autumn blight, <br />The wintry storm has blown. <br />We heeded not the cold blast, <br />Nor the winter's icy air; <br />For we found our climate in the heart, <br />And it was summer there. <br /> <br />II <br /> <br />The summer's sun is bright, Sall, <br />The skies are pure in hue; <br />But clouds will sometimes sadden them, <br />And dim their lovely blue; <br />And clouds may come to us, Sall, <br />But sure they will not stay; <br />For there's a spell in fond hearts <br />To chase their gloom away. <br /> <br />III <br /> <br />In sickness and in sorrow <br />Thine eyes were on me still, <br />And there was comfort in each glance <br />To charm the sense of ill. <br />And were they absent now, Sall, <br />I'd seek my bed of pain, <br />And bless each pang that gave me back <br />Those looks of love again. <br /> <br />IV <br /> <br />Oh, pleasant is the welcome kiss, <br />When day's dull round is o'er, <br />And sweet the music of the step <br />That meets me at the door. <br />Though worldly cares may visit us, <br />I reck not when they fall, <br />While I have thy kind lips, my Sall, <br />To smile away them all.<br /><br />Joseph Rodman Drake<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-sarah/
