Not ours the vows of such as plight
         Their troth in sunny weather,
While leaves are green, and skies are bright,
         To walk on flowers together.

But we have loved as those who tread
         The thorny path of sorrow,
With clouds above, and cause to dread
         Yet deeper gloom tomorrow

That thorny path, those stormy skies
         Have drawn our spirits nearer;
And rendered us by sorrow’s ties,
         Each to the other dearer.

Love born in hours of mirth joy and mirth,
         With mirth and joy may perish;
That to which darker hours gives birth
         Still more and more we cherish.

It looks beyond the clouds of Time,
         And this death’s shadowy portal;
Made by adversity sublime,
        By faith and hope immortal.

                                     Bernard Barton.
                              Born in London 1794