James Nack

Jan 4, 1809 - 1879

 

To My Wife

by James Nack

The winds of March are loose again,
And shrinking, from the piercing air,
I shudder at the thought of pain
That I have borne, and yet may bear;
But while the scenes return to view,
Which seemed to be my last on earth,
Returns the heavenly picture too
Of all thy love and all thy worth!

Thy matchless love, that bore thee up
Through trials few have heart to brave;
That shrank not from the bitter cup
Of anguish, which my anguish gave;
That, while thy noble heart was wrung
With pity, tenderness, and grief,
Still o'er my couch of suffering hung,
To give me comfort and relief.

A common love might weep and sigh,
To spare its grief, mly presence shun
And in its weakness let me die,
Lamented much, but aided none;
Thy nobler nature rose above
All trials, so they gave me aid,
And on the altar of thy love
Thy heart a sacrifice was laid.

Thy sighs were hushed, thy tears supprest,
Lest I thy sorrow should divine;
Thy eyes refused their needful rest,
To watch the fitful sleep of mine:
No sharer in a task so dear
And sacred would thy love allow;
By day and night, still hovering near,
My Ministering Angel thou!

Thou wast my dearest hope on earth
Since first I met thy welcome sight;
But nevel had I known thy worth
Till in affliction's darkest night:
Oh, then thy peerless goodness shone,
A star amid the gloom profound,
Dispersed the clouds above me thrown,
And scattered heavenly radiance round.

The God of mercy heard thy prayer,
When hope itself receded fast,
And gave to thy unwearied care
The life that seemed already past;
That life I ever would employ
To bless thee, and thy love repay, --
To give thee comfort, peace, and joy, --
To be thy friend, thy shield, thy stay.

I will not at the past repine,
Though the remembrance wakes a sigh --
To know the worth of love like thine
'T were well to suffer or to die!
But ah! at once its worth to know
And to enjoy its fullness, live!
No greater favor heaven can show,
And earth has nothing more to give.

Source:

The Romance Of The Ring, And Other Poems.
Copyright 1859
Delisser & Procter, 508 Broadway, New York
 
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