The Lost One Poem by John Critchley Prince

I mourn, albeit I mourn in vain,
To miss that being from my side
Who bound in Love's resistless chain
My selfishness and pride;
She whom I proved in after days
A faultless friend, a faithful wife,
Who cheered me through the roughest ways
Along the vale of life.

I miss her greeting when I rise
To needful toil at early morn,
And the bright welcome of her eyes
When irksome day is worn;
I sorely miss from ear and sight
Her comely face, her gentle tongue,
Which praised me when I went aright,
And warned when I was wrong.

I lack her love, which filled my heart
With kindred tenderness and joy,
And fondly kept my soul apart
From the harsh world's annoy;
That love which raised me from the dust
Of sordid wish and low desire,
And taught me by its own sweet trust
How nobly to aspire.

My hopes were wilder than I deemed,
When she espoused my humble lot,
For my connubial pleasures seemed
As they would perish not;
But an unerring Providence,
Whose power is ever just and great,
Called my beloved companion hence,
And left me desolate.

The greenness from my path is gone,
Its springs are sunken in the sand,
And wearily I travel on
Across a desert land.
The prospect round me, once so bright
With glorious hues, seems dim and bare,
But the far distance shows one light
Which keeps me from despair.*

Oh, no! not wholly desolate,
For she has left her image here,
And I will wrestle with my fate
For sake of one so dear.
Great God, keep strong and undefiled
The only fledgling in my nest,
My winsome boy, my only child,
And make his father blest.

May his lost mother's spirit now
Look down from her exalted place,
And shed on his unconscious brow
A portion of her grace!
May Heaven inspire my widowed soul
For highest duties, holiest things,
And when I near the shadowy goal
Lend me immortal wings.