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The Kiss at the Door

by Lydia H. Tilton

Nay, darling, I cannot love thee
As the morning we were wed;
Too fondly my heart is nurtured
Too much on love's manna fed,
To shrink to the old-time measure,
Although I scarcely know
How love that the years have strengthened,
Found so much room to grow.

I know when the whispered "Darling,"
First woke to happier life,
The heart that since has listened
To the added word of wife;
I fancied the very angels
Could not have loved you more,
But now a love far greater,
Shall kiss you at the door.

I know you are often weary
With business cares and strife,
But you always bring home sunshine
And blessings to your wife;
Each trial but serves to strengthen
The bond that was strong before,
And I watch, as the shadows lengthen,
To kiss you at the door.

Our God is love, my darling,
He plants with many flowers
The paths in which his children
Must pass their earthly hours;
Our path grows each day brighter,
With light from the unseen shore,
And gratefully I linger
To kiss you at the door.

Each life has its minor cadence;
The sad with the sweet must blend;
And even to heart communings
Come whisperings of the end;
But, oh, if the angels call me
First to the shining shore,
I will watch and wait to welcome
And kiss you at the door.

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