Classic Poem

Come to my calm but lonely home,
With all thy grace, and love, and light,
That I may watch thee day by day,
And be thy guardian through the night;
Be thou my household's happy queen,
The pride and beauty of my bower;
My wayward soul's presiding star, —
My fond heart's sweetest, dearest flower.

Light labours only wait thee here, —
My peerless and my chosen one!
For thou shalt train the nectar-tree
To hang its tresses in the sun.
By thee the honey-fingered bine
Shall mantle round our rural shed;
And the Sultana summer rose
Lift high her proud imperial head.

Through radiant summer's gorgeous time,
When pleasant toils are duly told:
When burn upon the western skies
The sun's rich robes of cloudy gold, —
We'll tread the green and fragrant sward,
And, leaning by some laggard stream,
Breathe to the sweet and listening air
The words of some immortal dream.

When garish day fades softly out,
Religious twilight gathering o'er, —
We'll read upon the book of heaven
Its God-illuminated lore;
Then filled with quiet thankfulness
While odorous night winds round us creep,
We'll turn with homeward steps, and slow,
To woo the tranquil bliss of sleep.

When moonlight snow is on the roof,
And pictured frost is on the pane;
When clustering stars look keenly forth,
And clouds discharge their solid rain, —
We'll nestle near the chimney side,
Unenvious of the festive throng,
And drown the moaning of the blast
In the united tones of song.

Should sickness bow thy fragile form,
Or sorrow rifle thee of rest, —
Should aught of human ill destroy
The peaceful rapture of thy breast,
My lips shall speak of home and health,
To cheat thee of thy grief and pain,
And all my faculties combine
To bring thee back to peace again.

When other voices than our own,
And other forms which are not here,
Shall fill these walls with childish glee,
And make existence doubly dear;
What shall estrange us heart from heart,
When such connubial joys are given?
Come, be the angel of my life,
And make my earthly home a heaven!