Poems (Eaton)/The Dying Wife
THE DYING WIFE.
I FEEL thy tears upon my brow, I hear thy quivering deep-drawn sigh,And though the death-damp chills me now, And dark mists hover o'er my eye,I love thee as in bye past years We've loved, returning each caress,And smiling on our children dear, So soon to be left motherless.
I've loved thee, dearest, with a love So free from taint of sinful earth.That to be felt in courts above 'Twill need no change of heavenly birth;And now, although my weary heart Would seek its rest, I fain would blessThy fond affection, ere I part From thee and them—the motherless.
Kind hast thou ever been to me, Fulfilling with a watchful care,The vow which Heaven required of thee, When we united bowed in prayer—The vow to love "till death shall part," Thou didst perform, and I was blest—Now new duties claim thy heart, To watch and guard the motherless.
Come, lay your hand so gently now In blessing their fair heads upon,And kiss the pure and open brow Of this, our lisping, youngest one,And with a father's kindly voice, In pity soothe their deep distress,And bid their sorrowing hearts rejoice— Deal gently with the motherless.
And when the tones of chiding fall So heavily upon their ear,And from stern looks and harsher call They shrink away in childish fear,Do thou support and comfort give, With words of love and fond caressAnd ever, ever, while they live, Be kind unto the motherless.
And in the solemn twilight hour, When evening's shadows slowly fall,And every whispered word has power The listener's senses to enthrall,Teach them to seek for Gilead's balm, And virtue on their minds impress;And in that holy twilight calm I'll join thee and thy motherless.
Now closer clasp my hand in thine, And press thy lips upon my brow,One fond, one thrilling kiss is mine— Oh, would that I could see thee now!Who grasps my heart? 'tis death—'tis death, His icy hands my brain oppress,Receive my struggling, latest breath, Be faithful to the motherless.