Stay true young man, who owns the day,
To the one to whom you gave your heart.
Though work has paved your golden way,
Forget not that face with whom you start.
For she has loved through stress and frown
And spilled your tears when you were down.

Her smile is worth far more than gold;
And though the world may think it not,
She is the friend whose hand you’ll hold
When the system spews you from its lot
Like so much baggage bruised and worn--
That flower called youth forever shorn!

And as years flow by dimming one’s light,
The limbs more bent and reduced in power,
Take joy in her soul--still there and so right--
That has danced with you to this final hour!
Praise God for angels who walk with our life
And, yes, those of flesh--the virtuous wife

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