The world had chafed his spirit proud <br />By its wearing, crushing strife, <br />The censure of the thoughtless crowd <br />Had touched a blameless life; <br />Like the dove of old, from the water’s foam, <br />He wearily turned to the ark of home. <br /> <br />Hopes he had cherished with joyous heart, <br />Had toiled for many a day, <br />With body and spirit, and patient art, <br />Like mists had melted away; <br />And o’er day-dreams vanished, o’er fond hopes flown, <br />He sat him down to mourn alone. <br /> <br />No, not alone, for soft fingers rest <br />On his hot and aching brow, <br />Back the damp hair is tenderly pressed <br />While a sweet voice whispers low: <br />“Thy joys have I shared, O my husband true, <br />And shall I not share thy sorrows too?” <br /> <br />Vain task to resist the loving gaze <br />That so fondly meets his own, <br />Revealing a heart that cares for praise <br />From him and him alone; <br />And though censure and grief upon him pall, <br />Unto to her, at least, he is all in all. <br /> <br />What though false friends should turn aside, <br />Or chill with icy look; <br />What though he meet the pitying pride, <br />The proud heart ill can brook; <br />There are depths of love in one gentle heart, <br />Whose faith with death alone will part. <br /> <br />Aye! well may thy brow relax its gloom, <br />For a talisman hast thou <br />’Gainst hopes that are blighted in their bloom, <br />’Gainst scornful look or brow— <br />Her heart is a high and a holy throne <br />Where monarch supreme thou reignest alone. <br /> <br />Kindly return her tender gaze, <br />Press closely that little hand, <br />Whisper fond words and soothing praise— <br />They are ever at thy command; <br />It is all the harvest she asks to reap <br />In return for love as the ocean deep.<br /><br />Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/husband-and-wife-4/
