Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
William Cowper. 17311800471. My Mary
THE twentieth year is wellnigh past | |
Since first our sky was overcast; | |
Ah, would that this might be the last! | |
My Mary! | |
Thy spirits have a fainter flow, | 5 |
I see thee daily weaker grow; | |
‘Twas my distress that brought thee low, | |
My Mary! | |
Thy needles, once a shining store, | |
For my sake restless heretofore, | 10 |
Now rust disused, and shine no more; | |
My Mary! | |
For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil | |
The same kind office for me still, | |
Thy sight now seconds not thy will, | 15 |
My Mary! | |
But well thou play’dst the housewife’s part, | |
And all thy threads with magic art | |
Have wound themselves about this heart, | |
My Mary! | 20 |
Thy indistinct expressions seem | |
Like language utter’d in a dream; | |
Yet me they charm, whate’er the theme, | |
My Mary! | |
Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, | 25 |
Are still more lovely in my sight | |
Than golden beams of orient light, | |
My Mary! | |
For could I view nor them nor thee, | |
What sight worth seeing could I see? | 30 |
The sun would rise in vain for me. | |
My Mary! | |
Partakers of thy sad decline, | |
Thy hands their little force resign; | |
Yet, gently press’d, press gently mine, | 35 |
My Mary! | |
Such feebleness of limbs thou prov’st, | |
That now at every step thou mov’st | |
Upheld by two; yet still thou lov’st, | |
My Mary! | 40 |
And still to love, though press’d with ill, | |
In wintry age to feel no chill, | |
With me is to be lovely still, | |
My Mary! | |
But ah! by constant heed I know | 45 |
How oft the sadness that I show | |
Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe, | |
My Mary! | |
And should my future lot be cast | |
With much resemblance of the past, | 50 |
Thy worn-out heart will break at last— | |
My Mary! |