Yes, close beside thee let me kneel--
Give me thy hand, that I may feel
The friend so true--so tried--so dear,
My heart's own chosen--indeed is near;
And check me not--this hour divine
Belongs to me--is fully mine.

'Tis thy own hearth thou sitt'st beside,
After long absence--wandering 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.

Ay,--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 mayst thou speak of love to me,
For, oh! most truly--I love thee!

Yet smile--for we are happy now.
Whence, then, that sadness on thy brow?
What sayst thou? "We muse once again,
Ere long, be severed by the main!"
I knew not this--I deemed no more
Thy step would err from Britain's shore.

"Duty commands!" 'Tis true--'tis just;
Thy slightest word I wholly trust,