For Jane's Birthday

If fate had held a careless knife                 And clipped one line that drew,              Of all the myriad lines of life,                 From Eden up to you;              If, in the wars and wastes of time,                 One sire had met the sword,              One mother died before her prime                 Or wed some other lord;              Or had some other age been blest,                 Long past or yet to be,              And you had been the world's sweet guest                 Before or after me:              I wonder how this rose would seem,                 Or yonder hillside cot;              For, dear, I cannot even dream                 A world where you are not!              Thus heaven forfends that I shall drink                 The gall that might have been,              If aught had broken a single link                 Along the lists of men;              And heaven forgives me, whom it loves,                 For feigning such distress:              My heart is happiest when it proves                 Its depth of happiness.              Enough to see you where you are,                 Radiant with maiden mirth!              To bless whatever blessed star                 Presided o'er your birth,              That, on this immemorial morn,                 When heaven was bending low,              The gods were kind and you were born                 Twenty sweet years ago!