Poems (Truesdell)/Apostrophe to my Husband

by Helen Truesdell

APOSTROPHE TO MY HUSBAND.

Sleep on, mine own beloved one,
 In thy far distant tomb!
Though sorrow shadows o'er each heart
 That mourns thine early doom.

Sleep on—I would not call thee back
 To the cold cares of life;
Sleep on, unmindful of the tears
 Of her thou once called wife.

Sleep on—I would not have thee know
 The fate of one so loved,
'T would grieve thy proud and generous heart,
 Though in the realms above.

Sleep on, sleep on—I try to check
 Each murmur of the heart;
But yet 'twas hard, mine own beloved,
 'T was hard from thee to part.

'Twas hard to bid a long adieu
 To one we loved so well,—
Ah, hard to say that bitter word,
 That bitter word, "farewell!"

The anguish of that parting hour
 Is on my spirit now;
It sends deep sorrow to my heart,
 A shadow to my brow.

And yet I would not call thee back;
 To the cold cares of life,—
Sleep on, unmindful of the tears
 Of her thou once called wife.