To My Wife

Afar from thee! the morning breaks,
But morning brings no joy to me;
Alas! my spirit only wakes
To know I am afar from thee.
In dreams I saw thy blessed face,
And thou wert nestled on my breast;
In dreams I felt thy fond embrace,
And to mine own thy heart was press'd.
Afar from thee! 'tis solitude!
Though smiling crowds around me be,
The kind, the beautiful, the good,
For I can only think of thee;
Of thee, the kindest, loveliest, best,
My earliest and my only one!
Without thee I am all unbless'd,
And wholly bless'd with thee alone.
Afar from thee! the words of praise
My listless ear unheeded greet;
What sweetest seem'd, in better days,
Without thee seems no longer sweet.
The dearest joy fame can bestow
Is in thy moisten'd eye to see,
And in thy cheek's unusual glow,
Thou deem'st me not unworthy thee.
Afar from thee! the night is come,
But slumbers from my pillow flee;
Oh, who can rest so far from home?
And my heart's home is, love, with thee.
I kneel me down in silent prayer,
And then I know that thou art nigh:
For Gon, who seeth everywhere,
Bends on us both his watchful eye.
Together, in his loved embrace,
No distance can our hearts divide;
Forgotten quite the mediate space,
I kneel thy kneeling form beside.
My tranquil frame then sinks to sleep,
But soars the spirit far and free;
Oh, welcome be night's slumbers deep,
For then, sweet love, I am with thee.