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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=416866" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Wife-Blessed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=416866" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=416866" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In youth he wrought, with eyes ablur,<br>Lorn-faced and long of hair--<br>In youth--in youth he painted her<br>A sister of the air--<br>Could clasp her not, but felt the stir<br>Of pinions everywhere.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=416866" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>II.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=416866" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She lured his gaze, in braver days,<br>And tranced him sirenwise;<br>And he did paint her, through a haze<br>Of sullen paradise,<br>With scars of kisses on her face<br>And embers in her eyes.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=416866" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>III.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=416866" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And now--nor dream nor wild conceit--<br>Though faltering, as before--<br>Through tears he paints her, as is meet,<br>Tracing the dear face o'er<br>With lilied patience meek and sweet<br>As Mother Mary wore.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=James+Whitcomb+Riley">James Whitcomb Riley</a></strong></div>