For Jane’s Birthday
If fate had held a careless knifeAnd 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 primeOr 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 guestBefore or after me:I wonder how this rose would seem,Or yonder hillside cot;For, dear, I cannot even dreamA world where you are not!
Thus heaven forfends that I shall drinkThe gall that might have been,If aught had broken a single linkAlong the lists of men;And heaven forgives me, whom it loves,For feigning such distress:My heart is happiest when it provesIts depth of happiness.
Enough to see you where you are,Radiant with maiden mirth!To bless whatever blessed starPresided o’er your birth,That, on this immemorial morn,When heaven was bending low,The gods were kind and you were bornTwenty sweet years ago!