Husband and Wife

Wife.—

Though other women’s husbands ride
Along the road in proud array,
My husband, up the rough hill-side,
On foot must wend his weary way.

The grievous sight with bitter pain
My bosom fills, and many a tear
Steals down my cheek, and I would fain
Do aught to help my husband dear.

Come! take the mirror and the veil,
My mother’s parting gifts to me;
In barter they must sure avail
To buy an horse to carry thee!

Husband.—

And I should purchase me an horse,
Must not my wife still sadly walk?
No, no! though stony is our course,
We’ll trudge along and sweetly talk.

Anon.