 | Songs and Poems from 1819 to 1879 |  |
87
TO MY WIFE.
I love thee! how I love thee! This once said,
What is there left to say—again but this,
With kisses mingled; till the lips to aid
The tongue forget, and only care to kiss,
And swimming eyes, half closed with rapture, speak
A language which for words would seek!
What is there left to say—again but this,
With kisses mingled; till the lips to aid
The tongue forget, and only care to kiss,
And swimming eyes, half closed with rapture, speak
A language which for words would seek!
Oh! in that silence—broken but by sighs,
From hearts o'ercharged with bliss, or murmurs low,
Sounds inarticulate which faintly rise,
And need the ear of love that sense to know.
In that delicious silence canst thou tell
How much I love thee, dearest, and how well.
From hearts o'ercharged with bliss, or murmurs low,
Sounds inarticulate which faintly rise,
And need the ear of love that sense to know.
In that delicious silence canst thou tell
How much I love thee, dearest, and how well.
No, surely no, encircled by those arms,
And pillowed on those heaving hills of snow,
May'st thou not deem 'tis only to the charms
Of that voluptuous banquet thou dost owe
The homage of a heart—to be deceived
When passion's selfish thirst is satisfied?
And pillowed on those heaving hills of snow,
May'st thou not deem 'tis only to the charms
Of that voluptuous banquet thou dost owe
The homage of a heart—to be deceived
When passion's selfish thirst is satisfied?
88
For easy 'tis for man to say “I love,”
And sweet to kiss and toy with one so fair,
And there be those will vow by Heaven above,
Eternal truth—and mean it when they swear,
How canst thou tell like them I may not be,
As prompt to promise and as prone to flee?
And sweet to kiss and toy with one so fair,
And there be those will vow by Heaven above,
Eternal truth—and mean it when they swear,
How canst thou tell like them I may not be,
As prompt to promise and as prone to flee?
Because thou feelest in thy woman's heart
The love I bear thee is of purer fire,
A love that can all passion put apart,
And burn as brightly unfanned by desire,
That shone when from all hope shut out afar,
Fixed, unextinguishable—like a star.
The love I bear thee is of purer fire,
A love that can all passion put apart,
And burn as brightly unfanned by desire,
That shone when from all hope shut out afar,
Fixed, unextinguishable—like a star.
For from that moment when our eyes first met,
And the frank, cordial pressure of thy hand
Seemed, to some bond between us, seal to set,
And all around me raised a fairy land,
From that eventful moment thou hast been
My worshipped Goddess and my heart-throned Queen.
And the frank, cordial pressure of thy hand
Seemed, to some bond between us, seal to set,
And all around me raised a fairy land,
From that eventful moment thou hast been
My worshipped Goddess and my heart-throned Queen.
'Twas not thy beauty, though amongst the fairest
Thou seem'st to me most fair; nor yet thy voice,
Though to my ear its tone is of the rarest,
That ever made the soul of man rejoice;
It was thyself that looked out of thine eyes,
Another self to find and idolize!
Thou seem'st to me most fair; nor yet thy voice,
Though to my ear its tone is of the rarest,
That ever made the soul of man rejoice;
It was thyself that looked out of thine eyes,
Another self to find and idolize!
89
To be that other self I did not dream,
And yet the feeling would not be represt,
That if those eyes on me could fondly beam,
In blessing me thou might'st thyself be blest;
But for that thought thou never should'st have known
How from that moment I was all thine own.
And yet the feeling would not be represt,
That if those eyes on me could fondly beam,
In blessing me thou might'st thyself be blest;
But for that thought thou never should'st have known
How from that moment I was all thine own.
And I have lived to kiss the tears away
From those sweet eyes—to see them on me shine,
Melting with love! to hear thee fondly say,
“My darling,” lived to be thy darling! thine!
Nay more, thy husband! oh my own, my wife,
This 'tis indeed to live! without thee what were life?
From those sweet eyes—to see them on me shine,
Melting with love! to hear thee fondly say,
“My darling,” lived to be thy darling! thine!
Nay more, thy husband! oh my own, my wife,
This 'tis indeed to live! without thee what were life?
| Songs and Poems from 1819 to 1879 | |