Poems (Rice)/To my Absent Husband
TO MY ABSENT HUSBAND.
MY home—how desolate to-night The parlor and the hall! Alas! I do believe my heart More desolate than all; For everything I try to do Seems useless, just like play, And everything perplexes, too, When, dearest, you're away.
The neighbors call; I smile and talk, And while away the hours, And sometimes, too, I listless walk Alone amid the flowers; I take my work and try to sew, But as I said before, Tis all in vain, for you must know I miss you more and more.
Last night in dreams I gathered flowers, And bound them for your sake; The world seemed like Elysian bowers— How dreadful to awake, And mope through a long autumn day; A blank you know I call The time I spend when you're away, And this is not quite all:
There's no one calls me beautiful, My mirror's silent, too; How strange this great discovery Should have been made by you! Excuse me, dearest, if I doubt Your taste so very pure; The beautiful I can't find out— 'Tis very strange, I'm sure.
The world is full of mystery, And O! this love is one; Its strange and wondrous history Is scarcely yet begun. All that we love is beautiful, Experience teaches this; The simplest thing sometimes has caused Me ecstasy of bliss.
Now as I wander round, and view Each gift, however small Or trifling, if twas brought by you, What joy does it recall! And every tender word and tone, Which did my bosom thrill Long years ago, now I'm alone, They make me happy still.
For with a generous heart and hand The fairest gifts you strew Around my home, from sea and land— What more can mortal do? It always makes me feel that I Can never half repay The many kindnesses, my love, You scatter o'er my way.
How many hours of happiness There are in this brief life, To those who truly realize The sacred name of wife! Now, dearest, you will smile to see I've tried to poetize; When you return, our home will be An earthly paradise.