The Home Circle by Mary Henry

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, Cal. · Dec 9, 1889

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 15, No. 47.

The Home Circle.

By Mary Henry

A BIRTHDAY ODE.

TWENTY or thirty or forty, some day— What does it matter, for, listen! a song Rings through the centuries hasting away, "One is not loved for her beauty so long;" But tho' there come wrinkles where roses belong, While over the eyes steals a deep twilight haze, This shall be true, softly murmurs my song— She shall be loved for her sweet ways always.

Grant to the heiress whatever we may— Diamonds, rubies, a liveried throng Of servants, and minions in gorgeous array— One is not loved for her riches so long; But though in her purse there be naught but the strong, Sensible lining of thrift, the swift "yeas" Echoing fast, prove the truth of my song— She shall be loved for her sweet ways always.

Keen though her intellect may be to slay Lions of thought, and to bind with the thong Of reason the mightiest psychical prey— One is not loved for her intellect long; But whether her logic be right or be wrong, And though of the sanskrit she knows not a phrase, Still through the centuries ringeth the song— She shall be loved for her sweet ways always.

Maiden, dear maiden, give heed to my song; One is not loved for mere accidents long; This shall be true to the end of thy days— Thou shalt be loved for thy sweet ways always. —Mary Henry.