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Charlotte Bronte - The Wife`s Will
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SIT still­a word­a breath may break 
(As light airs stir a sleeping lake,) 
The glassy calm that soothes my woes, 
The sweet, the deep, the full repose. 
O leave me not ! for ever be 
Thus, more than life itself to me ! 

Yes, close beside thee, let me kneel­ 
Give me thy hand that I may feel 
The friend so true­so tried­so dear, 
My heart`s own chosen­indeed is near; 
And check me not­this hour divine 
Belongs to me­is fully mine. 

`Tis thy own hearth thou sitt`st beside, 
After long absence­wandering wide; 
`Tis thy own wife reads in thine eyes, 
A promise clear of stormless skies, 
For faith and true love light the rays, 
Which shine responsive to her gaze. 

Aye,­well that single tear may fall; 
Ten thousand might mine eyes recall, 
Which from their lids, ran blinding fast, 
In hours of grief, yet scarcely past, 
Well may`st thou speak of love to me;
For, oh ! most truly­I love thee ! 

Yet smile­for we are happy now. 
Whence, then, that sadness on thy brow ? 
What say`st thou ? " We must once again, 
Ere long, be severed by the main ? " 
I knew not this­I deemed no more, 
Thy step would err from Britain`s shore. 

" Duty commands ?" `Tis true­`tis just; 
Thy slightest word I wholly trust, 
Nor by request, nor faintest sigh 
Would I, to turn thy purpose, try; 
But, William­hear my solemn vow­ 
Hear and confirm !­with thee I go. 

" Distance and suffering," did`st thou say ? 
" Danger by night, and toil by day ?" 
Oh, idle words, and vain are these; 
Hear me ! I cross with thee the seas. 
Such risk as thou must meet and dare, 
I­thy true wife­will duly share. 

Passive, at home, I will not pine; 
Thy toils­thy perils, shall be mine; 
Grant this­and be hereafter paid 
By a warm heart`s devoted aid:
`Tis granted­with that yielding kiss, 
Entered my soul unmingled bliss. 

Thanks, William­thanks ! thy love has joy, 
Pure­undefiled with base alloy; 
`Tis not a passion, false and blind, 
Inspires, enchains, absorbs my mind; 
Worthy, I feel, art thou to be 
Loved with my perfect energy. 

This evening, now, shall sweetly flow, 
Lit by our clear fire`s happy glow; 
And parting`s peace-embittering fear, 
Is warned, our hearts to come not near; 
For fate admits my soul`s decree, 
In bliss or bale­to go with thee !
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