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THE BLIND HUSBAND. |
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True, my heart is fondly clinging
To another spirit now, And the light of love is flinging
All its brightness round my brow—
Yet, my mother, never, never Shall this heart forget thy love,
"Till the hand of death shall sever, 'Till I seek my home above!
Mother ! do fond mem'ries, rushing, Bid thee think at eve of me ?
0, the tears are wildly gushing, As thy child remembers thee!
1848.
THE BLIND HUSBAND.
Come nearer, love, and sit thee down, And lay thy gentle hand in mine, - And smile, my beautiful, my own, With that soft air, that look benign!
I may not gaze upon thy face,
I may not meet thy speaking eye—
Yet, well I know each gentle grace Doth on thy placid features lie.
I know there's beauty in the rose, By the sweet fragrance that it yields;
I know thy lip with love-light glows, By the sweet bliss it bids me feel. |
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