III.

As two who walk through forest aisles, Lit all the way by forest flowers, Divide at morn through twin defiles To meet again in distant hours,

With plunder plucked from all the miles, So Philip and his Mildred went Into their walks of daily life,— Parting at morn with sweet consent,

And — tireless husband, busy wife — Together when the day was spent, Bringing the treasures they had won From sundered tracks of enterprise,

To learn from each what each had done, And prove each other grown more wise Than when the morning was begun. He strengthened her with manly thought

And learning, gathered from the great; And she, whose quicker eye had caught The treasures of the broad estate Of common life and learning, brought

Her gleanings from the level field, And gave them gladly to his hands, Who had not dreamed that they could yield Such sheaves, or hold within their bands

Such wealth of lovely flowers concealed. His grave discourse, his judgment sure, Gave tone and temper to her soul, While her swift thoughts and vision pure,

And mirth that would not brook control, And wit that kept him insecure Within his dignified repose, Refreshed and quickened him like wine.

No tender word or dainty gloze Could give him pleasure half so fine As that which tingled to her blows. He gave her food for heart and mind,

And raised her toward his higher plane; She showed him that his eyes were blind; She proved his lofty wisdom vain, And held him humbly with his kind.