Love And Truth.

Young Love sat in a rosy bower,     Towards the close of a summer day;     At the evening's dusky hour,     Truth bent her blessed steps that way;             Over her face             Beaming a grace     Never bestowed on child of clay.     Truth looked on with an ardent joy,     Wondering Love could grow so tired;     Hovering o'er him she kissed the boy,     When, with a sudden impulse fired,             Exquisite pains             Burning his veins,     Wildly he woke, as one inspired.     Eagerly Truth embraced the god,     Filling his soul with a sense divine;     Rightly he knew the paths she trod,     Springing from heaven's royal line;             Far had he strayed             From his guardian maid,     Perilling all for his rash design.     Still as they went, the tricksy youth     Wandered afar from the maiden fair;     Many a plot he laid, in sooth,     Wherein the maid could have no share             Sowing his seeds,             Bringing forth weeds,     Seldom a rose, and many a tare.     Save when the maiden was by his side,     Love was erratic, and rarely true;     When she smiled on the graceful bride,     Over the old world rose the new,             Into life's skies             Blending her dyes,     Fairer than those of the rainbow's hue.     Sunny-eyed maidens, whom Love decoys,     Mark well the arts of the wayward youth!     Sorrows he bringeth, disguised as joys,     Rose-hued delights with cores of ruth;             Learn to believe             Love will deceive,     Save when he comes with his guardian, Truth.