Fremont Journal

Fremont Journal

We two
We own no house, no lots, no land
By sweat of our brows and toil of our hands
No dainty viands for us are spread
We earn the pittance that buys our bread;
And yet we live in a grander state,
Sunbeams and I—than the millionaires
Who dine off silver and golden plates
With liveried lacqueys behind the chairs.
We have no riches in houses or stacks,
No bank books show our balance to draw,
Yet we carry a safe key that unlocks
More treasure than Croesus ever saw.
We wear no velvet nor satin fine,
We dress in a very homely way,
But ah! what luminous lusters shine
About Sunbeam's gowns and my hidden gray
When we walk together, (we do not ride.
We are far too poor,) it is very rare
We are bowed unto from the other side
Of the street—but for this we do not care;
We are not lonely, we pass along,
Sunbeam and I, and you cannot see
We can, what tall and beautiful throngs
Of angels we have for company.
No harp, no dulcimer, no guitar,
Breaks into music at Sunbeam's touch.
But do not think that our evenings are
Without their music. There are none such
In the concert halls, where the palpitant air
In musical billows floats and swims;
Our lives are as psalms, and our foreheads wear
A calm, like the peal of beautiful hymns.
When cloudy weather obscures our skies,
And some days darken with drops of rain,
We have but to look in each other's eyes,
And all is balmy and bright again.
Ah, ours is the alchemy that transmutes
The dregs to elixir—the dross to gold,
And so we live on Hesperian fruits,
Sunbeam and I, and never grow old.
Never grow old, but we live in peace,
And love our fellows and envy none,
And our hearts are glad at the large increase
Of plentiful virtues under the sun.
And the days pass on with their thoughtful tread
And the shadows lengthen toward the west,
But the wane of our young years brings no dread
To break their harvest of quiet rest.
Sunbeam's hair will be streaked with gray,
And time will furrow my darling's brow;
But never can Time's hand steal away
The tender halo that clasps it now.
So we dwell in wonderful opulence.
And my life trembles with reverence, I call
With nothing to hurt us or upbraid.
And Sunbeam's spirit is not afraid.