The poem
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.
Aye, - 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 may'st 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 say'st thou ? ' We must 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,' did'st 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.
Thanks, William - thanks ! thy love has joy, Pure - undefiled with base alloy; 'Tis not a passion, false and blind, Inspires, enchains, absorbs my mind; Worthy, I feel, art thou to be Loved with my perfect energy.
This evening, now, shall sweetly flow, Lit by our clear fire's happy glow; And parting's peace-embittering fear, Is warned, our hearts to come not near; For fate admits my soul's decree, In bliss or bale - to go with thee!