The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth

We parted: oh! it was a painful hour!
Not that I thought him lost to me for ever,
I knew that mighty love's resistless power
Would re-unite us, ne'er again to sever;
For we are wedded—not as thoughtless mortals,
Incited only by terrestial views,
Enter that sacred fane's mysterious portals.
Our souls are wedded; that assurance strews
My widowed path with flowers of fadeless hues.

210

Yet is the briefest parting hard; for love,
Deprived of wisdom, is a rayless sun;
A summer midnight, when no star above
Throws down one cheering ray; 't is GOOD, alone,
Without her partner TRUTH; or it resembles
Warm melting CHARITY, intent to bless,
When without FAITH to guide her steps, she trembles
O'er the dark scene of human wretchedness,
Wondering if Heaven permits or wills distress.

'T was hard to part; and while his spirit hovered
On the cold lips my kisses could not warm,
I prayed and murmured; but, alas! when covered
By the dark pall, they bore that manly form
To its cold grave, I lost the pang of sorrow,
For reason fled, and I 'd a dreamless sleep;
But woke, in anguish, on the coming morrow,
No more to murmur, pray, or even weep,
For grief is ever silent when it 's deep.

Humbled to earth, my self-upbraiding soul,
With mental tongue, exclaimed, Thy will be done!
When, through my bosom, such a feeling stole
As mocks the power of language; it was one
Of those delicious thrills of nameless rapture
We feel, when conscience, Heaven, and friends approve;

211

When earthly joys have lost their power to capture;
For Reuben's spirit whispered, “Peace, sweet dove,
We're joined for ever, in Conjugial Love.

From the Latin term conjugiale, a higher degree of union than is understood by the term conjugal, which is from the Latin word conjugale.

University of Virginia Library

THE WIDOW.