Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/39

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29
THE WIFE'S WILL


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.