From A Wife To Her Husband In Adversity Poem by Mary Anne Browne

Why heave that sigh, my only love ?
Is, then, the scene so sad before thee,
That nothing can the thoughts remove
That spread their dark'ning influence o'er thee ?

Believe me, thou art still as dear
As when thou wast in wealth and riches ;
Oh, wipe away that starting tear ;-
It is-it is thy wife beseeches !

Oh think upon those early days,
When thou to strains I sung would'st listen ;
When thy fond look was my best praise,
And with sweet tears thine eyes would glisten.

Believe me, love, 'tis still the same,
The fruit is here, tho' fall'n the blossom :-
Time tempers, but not cools the flame
That burns within the faithful bosom.

There is a thought may still beguile-
In joy or grief we've never parted.-
Oh, if I could but see thee smile,
I should not be quite broken-hearted !

Oh, cease to heave the struggling sigh !
Oh, dash away that tear, my dearest !
Believe me, happier days are nigh ;-
When night is darkest, dawn is nearest ;

Look on our infant's artless wile,
That strives to chase away thy sorrow ;
Canst thou not from that babe's sweet smile,
One ray of joy to cheer thee borrow.

There is a something in my breast,
That says we are not quite forsaken,-
That says once more we shall be blest,
And joy's soft tone again shall waken.

Perchance the parting beam of life
Will shed a peaceful sunshine o'er us ;
Then hand in hand we'll quit the strife,
With a bright thornless path before us.