TO HIS WIFE (1804)
 

I rise, dear Mary, from the soundest rest,

A wandering, way-worn, musing, singing guest.

I claim the privilege of hill and plain;

Mine are the woods, and all that they contain;

The unpolluted gale, which sweeps the glade; 5

All the cool blessings of the solemn shade;

Health, and the flow of happiness sincere;

Yet there’s one wish,—I wish that thou wert here;

Free from the trammels of domestic care,

With me these dear autumnal sweets to share; 10

To share my heart’s ungovernable joy;

And keep the birth-day of our poor lame boy.

Ah! that’s a tender string! Yet since I find

That scenes like these, can soothe the harass’d mind,

jaded spirits free, 15

To wander thus through vales and woods with me.

Thou know’st how much I love to steal away

From noise, from uproar, and the blaze of day;

With double transport would my heart rebound

To lead thee, where the clustering nuts are found; 20

No toilsome efforts would our task demand,

For the brown treasure stoops to meet the hand.

Round the tall hazel, beds of moss appear

In green-swards nibbled by the forest deer,

Sun, and alternate shade; while o’er our heads 25

The cawing rook his glossy pinions spreads;

The noisy jay, his wild-woods dashing through;

The ring-dove’s chorus, and the rustling bough;

The far resounding gate; the kite’s shrill scream;

The distant ploughman’s halloo to his team. 30

This is the chorus to my soul so dear;

It would delight thee too, wert thou but here:

For we might talk of home, and muse o’er days

Of sad distress, and Heaven’s mysterious ways;

Our chequer’d fortunes, with a smile retrace, 35

And build new hopes upon our infant race;

Pour our thanksgivings forth, and weep the while;

Or pray for blessings on our native isle.

But vain the wish!—Mary, thy sighs forbear,

Nor grudge the pleasure which thou canst not share; 40

Make home delightful, kindly wish for me,

And I’ll leave hills, and dales, and woods for thee.

Whittlebury Forest, Sept. 16, 1804.