To His Wife


Thou sunshine in my calmer sky,
Thou true-love in my vacant eye;
Where can I fly when lost to thee,
In this dark vale of misery.
Thou needle to my hapless north,
Thou sweet perrenial flower:
'Twas heaven that brought thy being forth,
To grace my lonely bower.


There is a spot, a lovely spot,
Where all my cares would be forgot:
A place where I should then be free, —
With truth, and friendship, love and thee.
There I could find a home still free, —
From every weary care;
How rough so e'er lifes storms might be,
My heart could shelter there.
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