Dinah Maria Craik (1826–1887)

I SAID to Lettice, our sister Lettice,

While drooped and glistened her eyelash brown,

“Your man’s a poor man, a cold and dour man,

There’s many a better about our town.”

She smiled securely—“He loves me purely:

A true heart’s safe, both in smile or frown;

And nothing harms me while his love warms me,

Whether the world go up or down.”

“He comes of strangers, and they are rangers,

And ill to trust, girl, when out of sight:

Fremd folk may blame ye, and e’en defame ye,—

A gown oft handled looks seldom white.”

She raised serenely her eyelids queenly,—

“My innocence is my whitest gown;

No harsh tongue grieves me while he believes me,

Whether the world go up or down.”

“Your man’s a frail man, was ne’er a hale man,

And sickness knocketh at every door,

And death comes making bold hearts cower, breaking—”

Our Lettice trembled;—but once, no more.

“If death should enter, smite to the centre

Our poor home palace, all crumbling down,

He cannot fright us, nor disunite us,

Life bears LOVE’S cross, death brings LOVE’S crown.”