Poems for Husband

Linger not long. Home is not home without thee: Its dearest tokens do but make me mourn.O, let its memory, like a chain about thee, Gently compel and hasten thy return!

Linger not long. Though crowds should woo thy staying, Bethink thee, can the mirth of thy friends, though dear,Compensate for the grief thy long delaying Costs the fond heart that sighs to have thee here?

Linger not long. How shall I watch thy coming, As evening shadows stretch o'er moor and dell;When the wild bee hath ceased her busy humming, And silence hangs on all things like a spell!

How shall I watch for thee, when fears grow stronger,As night grows dark and darker on the hill!How shall I weep, when I can watch no longer! Ah! art thou absent, art thou absent still?

Yet I shall grieve not, though the eye that seeth me Gazeth through tears that makes its splendor dull;For oh! I sometimes fear when thou art with me, My cup of happiness is all too full.

Haste, haste thee home unto thy mountain dwelling, Haste, as a bird unto its peaceful nest!Haste, as a skiff, through tempests wide and swelling, Flies to its haven of securest rest!

To these whom death again did wedThis grave’s the second marriage-bed.For though the hand of Fate could force’Twixt soul and body a divorce,It could not sever man and wife,Because they both lived but one life.Peace, good reader, do not weep;Peace, the lovers are asleep.They, sweet turtles, folded lieIn the last knot that love could tie.Let them sleep, let them sleep on,Till the stormy night be gone,And the eternal morrow dawn;Then the curtains will be drawn,And they wake into a lightWhose day shall never die in night.

Genteel in personage,Conduct, and equipage,Noble by heritage,Generous and free:Brave, not romantic;Learned, not pedantic;Frolic, not frantic;This must he be.

Honor maintaining,Meanness disdaining,Still entertaining,Engaging and new.Neat, but not finical;Sage, but not cynical;Never tyrannical,But ever true.

I had a little husbandNo bigger than my thumb;I put him in a pint pot,And there I bade him drum.

I bought a little horse,That galloped up and down;I bridled him and saddled him,And sent him out of town.

I gave him some garters,To garter up his hose,And a little handkerchief,To wipe his pretty nose.

“No—not where I shall make my own; But dig his grave just byThe woman’s with the initialed stone— As near as he can lie—After whose death he seemed to ail, Though none considered why.

“And when I also claim a nook, And your feet tread me in,Bestow me, under my old name, Among my kith and kin,That strangers gazing may not dream I did a husband win.”

“CAN anything availBeldame, for my hid grief?—Listen: I’ll tell the tale,It may bring faint relief!—

“I came where I was not known,In hope to flee my sin;And walking forth aloneA young man said, ‘Good e’en.’

“In gentle voice and trueHe asked to marry me;‘You only—only youFulfil my dream!’ said he.

WHATSOEVER trials rise, Tempting thee to falter,Ne'er forget the solemn vows Taken at the altar.In thy hours of direst grief, As in those of gladness,Minister to her you love, Dissipate her sadness.Be to cheer, to bless, to love, Always your endeavor;Write upon your heart of hearts Faithfulness forever.