Thou art ever standing near me,
        In wakeful hours and dreams;
    Like an angel-one, attendant
        On life and, all its themes;
    And though I wander from thee,
        In lands afar away,
    I dream of thee at night, and wake
        To think of thee by day. 
    In the morning, when the twilight,
        Like a spirit kind and true,
    Comes with its gentle influence,
        It whispereth of you. 
    For I know that thou art present,
        With love that seems to be
    A band to bind me willingly
        To heaven and to thee. 
    At noon-day, when the tumult and
        The din of life is heard,
    When in life’s battle each heart is
        With various passions stirred,
    I turn me from the blazonry,
        The fickleness of life,
    And think of thee in earnest thought,
        My dearest one-my wife! 
    When the daylight hath departed,
        And shadows of the night
    Bring forth the stars, as beacons fair
        For angels in their flight,
    I think of thee as ever mine,
        Of thee as ever best,
    And turn my heart unto thine own,
        To seek its wonted rest. 
    Thus ever thou art round my path,
        And doubly dear thou art
    When, with my lips pressed to thine own,
        I feel thy beating heart. 
    And through the many joys and griefs,
        The lights and shades of life,
    It will be joy to call thee by
        The holy name of “wife!”
    I love thee for thy gentleness,
        I love thee for thy truth;
    I love thee for thy joyousness,
        Thy buoyancy of youth
    I love thee for thy soul that soars
        Above earth’s sordid pelf;
    And last, not least, above these all,
        I love thee for thyself. 
    Now come to me, my dearest,
        Place thy hand in mine own;
    Look in mine eyes, and see how deep
        My love for thee hath grown;
    And I will press thee to my heart,
        Will call thee “my dear wife,”
    And own that thou art all my joy
        And happiness of life.

CHEER UP.

    Cheer up, cheer up, my own fair one! 
        Let gladness take the place of sorrow;
    Clouds shall not longer hide the sun,—­
        There is, there is a brighter morrow! 
    ’T is coming fast.  I see its dawn. 
        See! look you, how it gilds the mountain! 
    We soon shall mark its happy morn,
        Sending its light o’er stream and fountain. 
    My bird sings with a clearer note;
        He seems to know our hopes are brighter,
    And almost tires his little throat
        To let us know his heart beats lighter. 
    I wonder if he knows how dark
        The clouds were when they gathered o’er us!