Marriage - a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry

“Marriage — a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters in prose.” These words of Beverley Nichols, the English novelist and playwright, capture with gentle wit and profound truth the rhythm of love’s unfolding. Beneath their grace lies a deep meditation on time, transformation, and the endurance of human affection. Marriage, he suggests, begins in poetry — a season of dreams, passion, and wonder — but must be lived out in prose, the plain and steady language of daily life. The quote is not cynical; it is wise. It reminds us that love’s truest beauty is not found in the ecstasy of its beginning, but in the courage and tenderness that sustain it when the music fades into the quiet hum of living.

In the first chapter of poetry, two souls meet as if by divine design. The world glows brighter, every word feels like song, and life itself seems reborn. This is the language of ideal love — of blushes and vows, of moonlight and promises. Every poet, from Sappho to Shakespeare, has sung of this first chapter. It is the season of enchantment, where hearts speak in verse because prose feels too small to hold such wonder. Yet, as Nichols knew, poetry cannot sustain the entire story, for life demands something sturdier than rhyme: it demands truth, work, and devotion.

When the prose begins, the lovers awaken from dream into reality — the mornings of shared labor, the evenings of exhaustion, the small irritations and the long silences that test the strength of the bond. But there is no shame in this transformation. Prose may not sparkle like poetry, yet it endures. It is the daily act of choosing, again and again, the same person — through illness, through disappointment, through the slow erosion of time. In the eyes of the wise, this prose is sacred. For love that survives the ordinary is greater than love that lives only in passion’s brief flame.

Consider the marriage of John and Abigail Adams, the second President of the United States and his wife, who spent long years apart during the birth of their nation. Their letters, filled with both affection and practicality, show love evolving from poetry into prose. In youth, they wrote with the fever of romance; in later years, they wrote with the steadiness of partners who understood that love is not merely feeling, but fidelity and friendship. Their story embodies Nichols’ truth: the first chapter may thrill the heart, but it is the later chapters — written in patience, humor, and endurance — that give the book its depth and worth.

The origin of Nichols’ thought springs from a generation that saw the fading of idealism in modern love. Writing in the early twentieth century, he witnessed a world where marriage was both glorified and misunderstood. His words are not a lament for lost romance, but a call for maturity — a recognition that the art of love is not sustained by passion alone, but by kindness, empathy, and perseverance. The shift from poetry to prose is not decline, but evolution: a movement from illusion to truth, from inspiration to creation.

There is wisdom here for every generation. In youth, we chase the poetic — the thunderbolt, the perfect union, the endless excitement. But life teaches us that love must learn to breathe within imperfection. The prose of marriage — the routines, the responsibilities, the shared struggles — is where real intimacy grows. Those who expect love to remain forever poetic will be disillusioned; those who embrace the prose will discover that within its quiet words lie new kinds of beauty: loyalty, trust, and peace.

So, my children, remember this: cherish the poetry, but honor the prose. Let passion kindle the beginning, but let compassion sustain the journey. When the music of youth fades, listen for the gentler melody beneath — the one played by two souls who have grown not only together, but toward each other. For the poetry of love begins the tale, but it is the prose — the steadfast, unglamorous prose — that writes the eternity of the heart.