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Poem	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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