The Golden Wedding

The Golden Wedding.
211.1

LOVE wove himself a chain one Summer day.
A rosy chain, with flowers and garlands gay,
And in its shining meshes with deft hands
Entangled two fond hearts in loving bands

YEARS passed, the chain still held through joy and pain
Its captive force: naught proved too great a strain- Nay, strange to say.
It grew so much the stronger It turned to silver, rosy now no longer.

LIFE gathered its intensity, and fraught
With joy and sorrow into glory wrought
The erstwhile fragile chain. till now, behold.
Each separate link has turned to purest gold.
-EMILY STEVENSON NEWTON