Some people seem just made for early marriage: Like a fertile field they know their fate. Life comes calling for them in a carriage And takes them to the ornamental gate. There they find their pleasure, rich with love, A place they prune and water till it glows, And there they dwell till death and never move, At least that seems the way it often goes. Actually, such love is dear and rare; Not many can sustain it for so long. The two of you, however, seem to bear The marks of joy that to those few belong. Cross over, then, into that chosen place Where love rules all, and all is full of grace.