To An Absent Wife

'TIS Morn:--the sea breeze seems to bring
Joy, health, and freshness on its wing;
Bright flowers, to me all strange and new,
Are glittering in the early dew,
And perfumes rise from every grove,
As incense to the clouds that move
Like spirits o'er yon welkin clear,--
But I am sad--thou are not here!

'Tis Noon:--a calm, unbroken sleep
Is on the blue waves of the deep;
A soft haze, like a fairy dream,
Is floating over wood and stream;
And many a broad magnolia flower,
Within its shadowy woodland bower,
Is gleaming like a lovely star,--
But I am sad--thou art afar!

'Tis Eve:--on earth the sunset skies
Are painting their own Eden dyes;
The stars come down and trembling glow,
Like blossoms in the waves below;
And like an unseen sprite, the breeze
Seems lingering midst these orange trees,
Breathing its music round the spot,--
But I am sad--I see thee not!

'Tis Midnight:--with a soothing spell
The far-off tones of ocean swell--
Soft as a mother's cadence mild,
Low bending o'er her sleeping child;
And on each wandering breeze are heard
The rich notes of the mocking bird,
In many a wild and wondrous lay,--
But I am sad--thou art away!

I sink in dreams:--low, sweet, and clear,
Thy own dear voice is in my ear:--
Around my cheek thy tresses twine--
Thy own loved hand is clasped in mine,
Thy own soft lip to mine is pressed--
Thy head is pillowed on my breast;
Oh, I have all my heart holds dear,
And I am happy--thou art here!