And in its stead, the diadem I'll wear
Of love and womanhood--earth's crown most fair."

Out on the terrace, where the moonlight falls
In silver radiance o'er the time-stained walls,
A man and woman stand--he, strong and fair,
She, lovelier than the flowers that scent the air.
Her eyes are velvety and soft and brown,
Her hair--a shimmering splendor falls low down,
Her dark robes sweep the marble floor; one hand
Is clasped in his; in silence now they stand,
No need of words when silence speaketh more
Than all the wealth of speech, or written lore.

Her eyes are turned to his; no more they grieve;
Oh, who can tell the spell that love doth weave?
The music of the stars, a faint, sweet strain,
Floats down--an echo of their heart's refrain.
Two lives that glow as bright as heaven's own--
Two stars, that in the night have closer grown,
God sets the music in each soul; no hand
But that of LOVE the music can command.

The song of life is done--the tale is told,
God grant the chain may count some links of gold.
A woman's life--a man's true love--a song--
What dreams of life may not to these belong!
The weaving of a story, old yet new,
Life's strange, sad mingling of the false and true.
A woman's heart is like a harp of gold,