American Old Time Song Lyrics: 06 To My Wife

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 6

TO MY WIFE.

[These exquisit verses have been " going the rounds of the press " for
the last twenty-five years, during which time many errors have crept into
them, sadly marring their beauty and the poet's meaning. They are given
below in their original purity. Their author was Joseph Brennan, one of
the most gifted Irishmen who assumed to lead the abortive rebellion of 1848.
he was arrested and transported to the British penal colony, Van Dieman's
Land, from which island he escaped to New Orleans, and became editor
of the Delta of that city. The wife whom he has immortalized became a
resident of Brooklyn, N. Y., and is now dead.-P. J. McCourt, M. D.]

Come to me, dearest, I'm lonely without thee;
Day-time and night-time I'm thinking ahout thee;
Night-time and day-time in dreams I behold thee;
Unwelcome the waking which ceases to fold thee.
Come to me, darling, my Borrows to lighten,
Come in thy beauty to bless and to brighten;
Come in thy womanhood, meekly and lowly;
Come in thy loveliness, queenly and holy.

Swallows will flit 'round the desolate ruin,
Telling of Spring and its joyous renewing;
And thoughts of thy love and its manifold treasure
Are circling my heart with a promise of pleasure.
O Spring of my spirit! O May of my bosom!
Shine out on my soul till it hurgeon and blossom!
The waste of my life hath a rose-root within it,
And thy fondness alone to the sunshine can win it.

Figure that moves like a song through the even;
Features lit up by a reflex of heaven;
Eves like the skies of poor Erin, our mother,
"Where sunshine and shadow are chasing each other;
Smiles coming seldom, hut child-like and simple;
And planting in each rosy cheek a sweet dimple;
oh! thanks to the Saviour that even thy seeming
Is left the poor exile, to brighten his dreaming.

You have been glad when you knew I was gladdened;
Dear, are you sad now to hear I am saddened?
Our hearts ever answer in tune and in time, love,
As octave to octave, and rhyme unto rhyme, love.
I cannot smile but your cheek will he glowing;
You cannot weep hut my tears will be flowing;
I could not lire without you at my side, love;
You will not linger when I shall have died, love.

Come to me, dear, ere I die of my sorrow;
Shine on my gloom like the sun of to-morrow;
Strong, sweet and fond as the words which I speak, love,
With a song on your lip And a smile on your cheek, love.
Come for my heart in your absence is weary;
Haste, for my spirit is sickened and dreary;
Come to the arms which alone should caress thee;
Come to the heart which is throbbing to press thee.