  TO MARY At the tenth birthday all the world looks fair; The twentieth scarcely shades it with a care; At the third decade life soars grand and high; But with the fourth its heyday passes by. The fifth comes on,—a century's half is told; The sixth,—our little girl is growing old. Another half-score milestone passed, and then We've reached the allotted three-score years and ten. Years may be added; should they come to thee May Faith and Wisdom their companion be; Hope thy sure anchor; Peace with thee abide, And Love still be thy light at eventide. |
|
