R. L. Stevenson on Fanny Osborn

[mme_n_b]

Mirrored from Madam Nakamura-Branchevska.

1. My wife and I, in one romantic cot

“My wife and I, in one romantic cot,
The world forgetting, by the world forgot,
Or high as the gods upon Olympus dwell,
Pleased with what things we have, and pleased as well
To wait in hope for those which we have not.

She vows in ardour for a horse to trot;
I stake my votive prayers upon a yacht.
Which shall be first remembered, who can tell,—
My wife or I?

Harvests of flowers o’er all our garden plot,
She dreams; and I to enrich a darker spot,—
My unprovided cellar. Both to swell
Our narrow cottage huge as a hotel,
Where portly friends may come and share the lot
Of wife and I.

2. My Wife

“Trusty, dusky, vivid, true,
  With eyes of gold and bramble-dew,
  Steel-true and blade-straight,
  The great artificer
  Made my mate.

  Honour, anger, valour, fire;
  A love that life could never tire,
  Death quench or evil stir,
  The mighty master
  Gave to her.

  Teacher, tender comrade, wife,
  A fellow-farer true through life,
  Heart-whole and soul-free
  The august father
  Gave to me.