Oh, love! what changes we have seen, what cares and

pleasures, too, Since you became my own dear wife, when this old ring was new.

W.C. Bennett.
I do love, with a respect more tender,
More holy and profound, than mine own life,
My dear wife's estimate.


(Coriolanus). January 11.

So at last we are married! Our troth had been plighted

Not by moonbeam nor starbeam, by fountain or grove, But in a front parlour most brilliantly lighted, Beneath the gas fixtures, we whispered our love.

W. A. Butler.

She's notable enough; and as for temper-
The best good-humoured girl.

Robert Southey.

January 12.
The joys of love, if they should ever last

Without affliction or disquietness
That worldly chances do amongst them cast,
Would be on earth too great a blessedness.


(The Faerie Queene). She loved me for the dangers I had passed, And I loved her that she did pity them.



January 11.

January 12.

If I were yonder wave, my dear,

And thou the isle it clasps around,
I would not let a step come near
My land of bliss, my fairy ground.

I struck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue.


(All's Well that Ends Well).

January 14. Oh! happy they, the happiest of their kind, Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend ; 'Tis not the coarser tie of human laws, Unnat'ral oft, and foreign to the mind.

Thomson. Our love was of that steadfast kind, that grew Deeper and deeper with the journeying years.

- January 15.
Love-even love-goes smoothly on

A railway sort of track ;
No flinty sire, no jealous Don,
No hearts upon the rack.


Oh! blessings on that happy day, the happiest of my

life, When, thanks to God! your low, sweet “Yes" made you my loving wife.

W. C. Bennett.

January 14.

January 15.

I swear by heav'n and earth,

And Allah throned above,
That crown and pomp were nothing worth
To me without thy love!

Amelia B. Edwards.
My heart is thy temple, and, living or dead,
Thy light on its altars will ever be shed.
Trans. from the Hungarian by Sir 7. Bowring.

January 17.

Dearest, thou art in youthful prime, .

Life's skies are bright above thee; .
'Tis morning's sweetest, freshest time-
To see thee is to love thee.


Always the same, Darby, my own!
Always the same to your old wife Joan.

F. E. Weatherby.
January 18.

But when he vow'd he wad make her his bride,

Though his flocks and his herds were not few, She gi'ed him her hand and a kiss beside, And vow'd she'd for ever be true.

Songs of Scotland.

I love my love because I know my love loves me.


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