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To My Wife Post by :ow24160 Category :Poems Author :Thomas Cowherd Date :October 2011 Read :2173

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To My Wife

Ellen, dear, it is clear
I have not half thy merits told;
Sweet of life, lovely wife,
More precious thou hast been than gold.

Listen now; truth I trow
Will be my guide while I relate
What pure love, sweetest dove,
Thou still hast shown in marriage state.

When I'm ill thou dost fill
The office of a comforter;
Soothing sickness with such quickness
That disease seems banished far.

If low spirits we inherit,
Thou swiftly drivest them away
By sweet song all day long,
Until I feel quite young and gay.

Then our house, tidy spouse,
Is kept by thee so trim and neat,
That from home I'll not roam
To try and find a snug retreat.

Of girls and boys, and many joys,
We have, my dearest, quite our share;
How to use them, not abuse them,
Should always be our constant care.

But alas! how soon pass
All present good desires away.
Feel we weakness? then in meekness
Let us unto our Father pray.

He is strong, and has long
Upheld us by His mighty arm;
O how glorious! Faith victorious
Will us preserve always from harm.

Then let us pray, love, day by day,
That our dear children may be brought
Into His fold, ere they are old:
Even as God himself hath taught.

O, what pleasure in rich measure
We then should feel, my own true love!
For naught ever could us sever,
But all at last would dwell above--

By God's grace in that place
Inhabited by Spirits bright.
This secured, we allured,
Might view by Faith the glorious sight.

(The end)
Thomas Cowherd's poem: To My Wife

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To The Same, When Away From Home To The Same, When Away From Home

To The Same, When Away From Home
Oh, when will my beloved come To her own home again?Surely it will not be my doomTo miss her always in each room, And of her loss complain.Dear Chris and Jenny wish her home, And ask why she's not here;And I in quest of her would roam,But fear to miss her much-loved form, Which I would hope is near.Yet I would not impatient be; Thou art on Mother tending.Thy love to her I like to see.It will not lessen mine to thee, Until my life is ending.And should'st thou stay another week, A month,

Lines To My Mother, Who Died When I Was About Two Years Old Lines To My Mother, Who Died When I Was About Two Years Old

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I had a mother once, and her dear nameHas power even now to thrill my very frame,And call forth feelings which can only riseWhen Love doth view its object in the skies.So would I view thee, Mother, and rejoiceThat I have power to raise my feeble voiceAnd tell what thoughts arise within my breast,As thus I view thee entered into rest.O, say, my Mother, canst thou see thy son?Dost thou behold the poor, erratic oneWho has been tossed on Life's tempestuous waveTill he has fairly longed to find his grave?I fain would know if, when I heave a sigh,Tears e'er bedim