XLI.
Husband, sweet husband! where, O, where art thou?
Art thou not near me, whispering peaceful things?
Do I not hear thy spirit-accents now,
And feel the waving of thy spirit-wings,
Cooling my burning heart, where sorrow’s stings
Would rankle, were it not for Heaven and thee?
It must be so. My eager spirit springs
To meet thee, love! ’Tis thy sweet task to be
A ministering angel, sent to comfort me!”