But, lo! night, closing o'er the earth, Infects our thoughts with gloom;Come, let us strive to rally mirth Where glows a clear and tranquil hearth In some more cheerful room.
THE WIFE'S WILL.
Sit still--a word--a breath may break (As light airs stir a sleeping lake)
The glassy calm that soothes my woes--
The sweet, the deep, the full repose.
O leave me not! for ever be Thus, more than life itself to me!
Yes, close beside thee let me kneel--
Give me thy hand, that I may feel The friend so true--so tried--so dear, My heart's own chosen--indeed is near;And check me not--this hour divine Belongs to me--is fully mine.
'Tis thy own hearth thou sitt'st beside, After long absence--wandering wide;'Tis thy own wife reads in thine eyes A promise clear of stormless skies;For faith and true love light the rays Which shine responsive to her gaze.
Ay,--well that single tear may fall;Ten thousand might mine eyes recall, Which from their lids ran blinding fast, In hours of grief, yet scarcely past;Well mayst thou speak of love to me, For, oh! most truly--I love thee!
Yet smile--for we are happy now.
Whence, then, that sadness on thy brow?
What sayst thou? "We muse once again, Ere long, be severed by the main!"
I knew not this--I deemed no more Thy step would err from Britain's shore.
"Duty commands!" 'Tis true--'tis just;Thy slightest word I wholly trust, Nor by request, nor faintest sigh, Would I to turn thy purpose try;But, William, hear my solemn vow--
Hear and confirm!--with thee I go.
"Distance and suffering," didst thou say?
"Danger by night, and toil by day?"
Oh, idle words and vain are these;Hear me! I cross with thee the seas.
Such risk as thou must meet and dare, I--thy true wife--will duly share.
Passive, at home, I will not pine;Thy toils, thy perils shall be mine;Grant this--and be hereafter paid By a warm heart's devoted aid:
'Tis granted--with that yielding kiss, Entered my soul unmingled bliss.