Husband, the beloved man … You will have a long and happy life with this man, you will fall asleep, wake up, and have happy and sad moments together. Beautiful soulmate poems to your husband are a great way to declare your love for your spouse, emphasize his importance and irreplaceability, to express your gratitude and respect once again. Be sure, the dearest man will appreciate such attention from his woman!
«A Husband…» by Sarah Holmes
A husband should be
Loyal and honest
A husband should be
Strong and protective
A husband should be
Loving and romantic
A husband should be
Patient and understanding
A husband should know
When enough is enough
A husband should know
When to fight and when to cry
A husband should know
all your goals and dreams
A husband should know
your strengths and well as your weaknesses
A husband needs to be a true man
A husband needs to love you unconditionally
A husband needs to know your heart is forever his
***
«A Husband» by Christopher Higginson
I’m looking for a husband, you know the sort of chap
The kind of guy who copes with things and never has a flap
The one who fixes cars and bikes and often mows the lawn
Takes the kids on Sunday hikes while I with hammock yawn
I’m looking for a husband, you know the sort of bloke
Who listens to the things I say and laughs out when I joke
He’ll do the Sunday B B Q and carves the Sunday roast
Then gives me a foot massage, that’s the thing I like the most
I’m looking for a husband dependable and true
Who likes to have discussions but never will argue
Can sit in friendly silence, and never has to babble
Will make and pour the tea for me and lets me win at scrabble
I’m looking for a husband; I know they’re pretty rare
The kind who opens doors for me and lets me have his chair
And earns enough at his travail so we’re debt and mortgage free
But doesn’t put his work ahead of caring about me
The husband I am looking for might seem quite rare to you
And friends have tried to tell me that in number they are few
But I have hope of finding one I hope he will be free
‘Cause I’ve been one for forty years, I want one just like me!
***
«A Husband’s Love» by Mary Nagy
Once upon a time
when we were young
you caught my eye
like a ball to a glove.
I didn’t know how we’d turn out
but, I knew I had your love.
When we’re together I think of how much I love you.
I love you more than life.
A world we created together
my beautiful wife.
So, when you ask me
how much I love you…………..
I’ve always loved you.
So now you know/
Here’s your poem.
Now leave me alone.
***
«A Letter To Her Husband» by Anne Bradstreet
Absent upon Public Employment
My head, my heart, mine eyes, my life, nay more,
My joy, my magazine, of earthly store,
If two be one, as surely thou and I,
How stayest thou there, whilst I at Ipswich lie?
So many steps, head from the heart to sever,
If but a neck, soon should we be together.
I, like the Earth this season, mourn in black,
My Sun is gone so far in’s zodiac,
Whom whilst I ‘joyed, nor storms, nor frost I felt,
His warmth such fridged colds did cause to melt.
My chilled limbs now numbed lie forlorn;
Return; return, sweet Sol, from Capricorn;
In this dead time, alas, what can I more
Than view those fruits which through thy heart I bore?
Which sweet contentment yield me for a space,
True living pictures of their father’s face.
O strange effect! now thou art southward gone,
I weary grow the tedious day so long;
But when thou northward to me shalt return,
I wish my Sun may never set, but burn
Within the Cancer of my glowing breast,
The welcome house of him my dearest guest.
Where ever, ever stay, and go not thence,
Till nature’s sad decree shall call thee hence;
Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone,
I here, thou there, yet both but one.
***
«A Love Letter To Her Husband» by Anne Bradstreet
Phoebus make haste, the day’s too long, begone,
The silent night’s the fittest time for moan;
But stay this once, unto my suit give ear,
And tell my griefs in either Hemisphere:
(And if the whirling of thy wheels do n’t drown’d
The woful accents of my doleful sound),
If in thy swift career thou canst make stay,
I crave this boon, this errand by the way:
Commend me to the man more lov’d than life,
Show him the sorrows of his widow’d wife,
My dumpish thoughts, my groans, my brackish tears,
My sobs, my longing hopes, my doubting fears,
And, if he love, how can he there abide?
My interest’s more than all the world beside.
He that can tell the stars or Ocean sand,
Or all the grass that in the meads do stand,
The leaves in th’ woods, the hail or drops of rain,
Or in a cornfield number every grain,
Or every mote that in the sunshine hops,
May court my sighs and number all my drops.
Tell him, the countless steps that thou dost trace,
That once a day thy spouse thou mayst embrace;
And when thou canst not treat by loving mouth,
Thy rays afar, salute her from the south.
But for one month I see no day (poor soul)
Like those far situate under the pole,
Which day by day long wait for thy arise,
O how they joy when thou dost light the skies.
O Phoebus, hadst thou but thus long from thine
Restrain’d the beams of thy beloved shine,
At thy return, if so thou couldst or durst,
Behold a Chaos blacker than the first.
Tell him here’s worse than a confused matter,
His little world’s a fathom under water,
Naught but the fervor of his ardent beams
Hath power to dry the torrent of these streams.
Tell him I would say more, but cannot well,
Opressed minds abrupted tales do tell.
Now post with double speed, mark what I say,
By all our loves conjure him not to stay.
***
«A Memory» by Angela Cirocco
I place a snowball Chrysanthemum
in a clear vase, pour water-
I stand back and remember
a star studded night.
Kids asleep, my husband and I
sneak out at 2:00 a.m.
A huge drop cloth of snow sifting
through angels’ fingers drift,
flouring snow over
hedges, telephone poles,
pitched roofs of Victorian houses.
A city glistened in white excitement.
We laugh and
throw snowballs.
Kids again
until
snow sneaks in gloves,
bites you cold,
and scarves’ fringes dangle ice.
Time to come in,
peek at the kids,
and warm each other.
***
«A Wife Bemoans Her Husband’s Absence» by Confucius
So full am I of anxious thought,
Though all the morn king-grass I’ve sought,
To fill my arms I fail.
Like wisp all-tangled is my hair!
To wash it let me home repair.
My lord soon may I hail!
Though ‘mong the indigo I’ve wrought
The morning long; through anxious thought
My skirt’s filled but in part.
Within five days he was to appear;
The sixth has come and he’s not here.
Oh! how this racks my heart!
When here we dwelt in union sweet,
If the hunt called his eager feet,
His bow I cased for him.
Or if to fish he went away,
And would be absent all the day,
His line I put in trim.
What in his angling did he catch?
Well worth the time it was to watch
How bream and tench he took.
Men thronged upon the banks and gazed;
At bream and tench they looked amazed,
The triumphs of his hook.
***
«A Wife Consoled By Her Husband’s Arrival» by Confucius
Cold is the wind, fast falls the rain,
The cock aye shrilly crows.
But I have seen my lord again;–
Now must my heart repose.
Whistles the wind, patters the rain,
The cock’s crow far resounds.
But I have seen my lord again,
And healed are my heart’s wounds.
All’s dark amid the wind and rain,
Ceaseless the cock’s clear voice!
But I have seen my lord again;–
Should not my heart rejoice?
***
«A Wife Deplores The Absence Of Her Husband» by Confucius
Away the startled pheasant flies,
With lazy movement of his wings.
Borne was my heart’s lord from my eyes;–
What pain the separation brings!
The pheasant, though no more in view,
His cry, below, above, forth sends.
Alas! my princely lord, ’tis you–
Your absence, that my bosom rends.
At sun and moon I sit and gaze,
In converse with my troubled heart.
Far, far from me my husband stays!
When will he come to heal its smart?
Ye princely men who with him mate,
Say, mark ye not his virtuous way.
His rule is–covet nought, none hate;–
How can his steps from goodness stray?
***
«A Wife Mourns For Her Husband» by Confucius
The dolichos grows and covers the thorn,
O’er the waste is the dragon-plant creeping.
The man of my heart is away and I mourn–
What home have I, lonely and weeping?
Covering the jujubes the dolichos grows,
The graves many dragon-plants cover;
But where is the man on whose breast I’d repose?
No home have I, having no lover!
Fair to see was the pillow of horn,
And fair the bed-chamber’s adorning;
But the man of my heart is not here, and I mourn
All alone, and wait for the morning.
While the long days of summer pass over my head,
And long winter nights leave their traces,
I’m alone! Till a hundred of years shall have fled,
And then I shall meet his embraces.
Through the long winter nights I am burdened with fears,
Through the long summer days I am lonely;
But when time shall have counted its hundreds of years
I then shall be his–and his only!
***
«A Wife Urging Her Husband To Action» by Confucius
His lady to the marquis says,
‘The cock has crowed; ’tis late.
Get up, my lord, and haste to court.
‘Tis full; for you they wait.’
She did not hear the cock’s shrill sound,
Only the blueflies buzzing round.
Again she wakes him with the words,
‘The east, my lord, is bright.
A crowded court your presence seeks;
Get up and hail the light.’
‘Twas not the dawning light which shone,
But that which by the moon was thrown.
He sleeping still, once more she says,
‘The flies are buzzing loud.
To lie and dream here by your side
Were pleasant, but the crowd
Of officers will soon retire;
Draw not on you and me their ire!’
***
«A Wife’s Desire» by Marybeth Rausch
I want to be your motivation, inspiration, and everything in between.
I want to be the reason for your smile, the one who turns your frown upside down.
I want to be the one you look up to and admire and the one you desire.
The voice in your heart, not your ear, telling you everything that you need, not want to hear.
I want to mean enough to you to be your solution to all life’s ups and downs.
I want you to need me every morning when you wake up, during the day when you have had enough.
I want to feel your excitement to kiss me good night after your day has been so rough.
I need and want all these things from you because you’re the only one who gets me through.
I love you more and more each day, it’s true.
You have blessed me with a beautiful life, made together by both of us.
I need all these things from you because my most treasured title is your wife.
***
«A Wife’s Grief Because Of Her Husband’s Absence» by Confucius
The falcon swiftly seeks the north,
And forest gloom that sent it forth.
Since I no more my husband see,
My heart from grief is never free.
O how is it, I long to know,
That he, my lord, forgets me so?
Bushy oaks on the mountain grow,
And six elms where the ground is low.
But I, my husband seen no more,
My sad and joyless fate deplore.
O how is it, I long to know,
That he, my lord, forgets me so?
The hills the bushy wild plums show,
And pear-trees grace the ground below.
But, with my husband from me gone,
As drunk with grief, I dwell alone.
O how is it, I long to know,
That he, my lord, forgets me so?
***
«An Epitaph Upon Husband And Wife» by Richard Crashaw
TO these whom death again did wed
This grave ‘s the second marriage-bed.
For though the hand of Fate could force
‘Twixt soul and body a divorce,
It could not sever man and wife,
Because they both lived but one life.
Peace, good reader, do not weep;
Peace, the lovers are asleep.
They, sweet turtles, folded lie
In the last knot that love could tie.
Let them sleep, let them sleep on,
Till the stormy night be gone,
And the eternal morrow dawn;
Then the curtains will be drawn,
And they wake into a light
Whose day shall never die in night.
***
«An Ol’ Cowboy» by Lovie M. Haskell
His boots may be dusty
From sitting by the door,
And his saddle a little weathered;
It doesn’t get oiled anymore.
His hat has become misshapen
From hanging on the wall,
And his lariat is a little stiff;
It isn’t used much at all.
His hair has started graying
From “experience” he has said,
And his body a little sorer;
It’s the COWBOY life he’s led.
His words may seem harsh
From the truth that he speaks,
And his morals a little different;
It’s a promise to himself that he keeps.
His heart a bit more cautious
From the hurt its felt and more.
And his love, if you should earn it. . .
It’s a little better than any love
You have known before.
***
«Any Wife To Any Husband» by Robert Browning
My love, this is the bitterest, that thou—
Who art all truth, and who dost love me now
As thine eyes say, as thy voice breaks to say—
Shouldst love so truly, and couldst love me still
A whole long life through, had but love its will,
Would death that leads me from thee brook delay.
II.
I have but to be by thee, and thy hand
Will never let mine go, nor heart withstand
The beating of my heart to reach its place.
When shall I look for thee and feel thee gone?
When cry for the old comfort and find none?
Never, I know! Thy soul is in thy face.
III.
Oh, I should fade—’tis willed so! Might I save,
Gladly I would, whatever beauty gave
Joy to thy sense, for that was precious too.
It is not to be granted. But the soul
Whence the love comes, all ravage leaves that whole;
Vainly the flesh fades; soul makes all things new.
IV.
It would not be because my eye grew dim
Thou couldst not find the love there, thanks to Him
Who never is dishonoured in the spark
He gave us from his fire of fires, and bade
Remember whence it sprang, nor be afraid
While that burns on, though all the rest grow dark.
V.
So, how thou wouldst be perfect, white and clean
Outside as inside, soul and soul’s demesne
Alike, this body given to show it by!
Oh, three-parts through the worst of life’s abyss,
What plaudits from the next world after this,
Couldst thou repeat a stroke and gain the sky!
VI.
And is it not the bitterer to think
That, disengage our hands and thou wilt sink
Although thy love was love in very deed?
I know that nature! Pass a festive day,
Thou dost not throw its relic-flower away
Nor bid its music’s loitering echo speed.
VII.
Thou let’st the stranger’s glove lie where it fell;
If old things remain old things all is well,
For thou art grateful as becomes man best
And hadst thou only heard me play one tune,
Or viewed me from a window, not so soon
With thee would such things fade as with the rest.
VIII.
I seem to see! We meet and part; ’tis brief;
The book I opened keeps a folded leaf,
The very chair I sat on, breaks the rank
That is a portrait of me on the wall—
Three lines, my face comes at so slight a call:
And for all this, one little hour to thank!
IX.
But now, because the hour through years was fixed,
Because our inmost beings met and mixed,
Because thou once hast loved me—wilt thou dare
Say to thy soul and Who may list beside,
“Therefore she is immortally my bride;
“Chance cannot change my love, nor time impair.
X.
“So, what if in the dusk of life that’s left,
“I, a tired traveller of my sun bereft,
Look from my path when, mimicking the same,
“The fire-fly glimpses past me, come and gone?
“—Where was it till the sunset? where anon
“It will be at the sunrise! What’s to blame?”
XI.
Is it so helpful to thee? Canst thou take
The mimic up, nor, for the true thing’s sake,
Put gently by such efforts at a beam?
Is the remainder of the way so long,
Thou need’st the little solace, thou the strong
Watch out thy watch, let weak ones doze and dream!
XII.
—Ah, but the fresher faces! “Is it true,”
Thou’lt ask, “some eyes are beautiful and new?
“Some hair,—how can one choose but grasp such wealth?
“And if a man would press his lips to lips
“Fresh as the wilding hedge-rose-cup there slips
“The dew-drop out of, must it be by stealth?
XIII.
“It cannot change the love still kept for Her,
“More than if such a picture I prefer
“Passing a day with, to a room’s bare side:
The painted form takes nothing she possessed,
Yet, while the Titian’s Venus lies at rest,
A man looks. Once more, what is there to chide?”
XIV.
So must I see, from where I sit and watch,
My own self sell myself, my hand attach
Its warrant to the very thefts from me—
Thy singleness of soul that made me proud,
Thy purity of heart I loved aloud,
Thy man’s-truth I was bold to bid God see!
XV.
Love so, then, if thou wilt! Give all thou canst
Away to the new faces—disentranced,
(Say it and think it) obdurate no more:
Re-issue looks and words from the old mint,
Pass them afresh, no matter whose the print
Image and superscription once they bore
XVI.
Re-coin thyself and give it them to spend,—
It all comes to the same thing at the end,
Since mine thou wast, mine art and mine shalt be,
Faithful or faithless, scaling up the sum
Or lavish of my treasure, thou must come
Back to the heart’s place here I keep for thee!
XVII.
Only, why should it be with stain at all?
Why must I, ‘twixt the leaves of coronal,
Put any kiss of pardon on thy brow?
Why need the other women know so much,
And talk together, “Such the look and such
“The smile he used to love with, then as now!”
XVIII.
Might I die last and show thee! Should I find
Such hardship in the few years left behind,
If free to take and light my lamp, and go
Into thy tomb, and shut the door and sit,
Seeing thy face on those four sides of it
The better that they are so blank, I know!
XIX.
Why, time was what I wanted, to turn o’er
Within my mind each look, get more and more
By heart each word, too much to learn at first;
And join thee all the fitter for the pause
‘Neath the low doorway’s lintel. That were cause
For lingering, though thou calledst, if I durst!
XX.
And yet thou art the nobler of us two
What dare I dream of, that thou canst not do,
Outstripping my ten small steps with one stride?
I’ll say then, here’s a trial and a task—
Is it to bear?—if easy, I’ll not ask:
Though love fail, I can trust on in thy pride.
XXI.
Pride?—when those eyes forestall the life behind
The death I have to go through!—when I find,
Now that I want thy help most, all of thee!
What did I fear? Thy love shall hold me fast
Until the little minute’s sleep is past
And I wake saved.—And yet it will not be!
***
«Are You A Good Husband?» by Julius Babarinsa
All married men want to be called a good husband
A good husband is a decent husband
Mr. Husband what you done to deserve this decency?
Has your wife ever referred to you as her good husband?
It is known that the eyes cannot see itself
Unless by reflection. Have you ever asked
Your wife for a performance appraisal
Honey, how did I perform last year?
On a scale of one to ten, one for very poor
Ten for excellent, how did I perform?
Your wife may think you are now on new drugs
If you receive less than six, you need to
Start fence mending before it is too late
A good husband sees his wife as his friend
A nice husband treats his wife as his lover
A decent husband regards his wife as a soul-mate
You should anticipate what your wife
Will need before she makes any request
By the way, have you ever bought a gift
For your wife without an occasion?
Do you have to wait for her birthday?
To inform her that she is very special to you?
Do you have to wait for your wedding anniversary?
To tell her that she is the best thing in your life
When last did you talk to your wife in-laws?
When last did you visit your wife in-laws?
What have you done to be called a good husband?
Ask for performance appraisal on a regular basis
Remember, if you make your wife happy
You will get happiness in return
***
«Battered Husband» by Antonio Liao
battered husbands too exist
a wife kicking his strong feet
slapping his rugged jaw
insulting him in front of his
friends and shouting at
him while talking breakfast
she collars him and spits
on him, his decency trampled
like a rug at the door
where she cleans her feet
from all dirt where she
stamps on his privacy
i see him smile through
all these, as though nothing
really matters, nothing
to mind nothing to be
taken seriously
she was once beautiful
a face he always adore
something wrong went
somewhere,
she went wild in the
desert of her longings
she fell on the deep abyss
of her mind
she lost her senses
on some unacceptable
pains
she cries in the wilderness
as though her soul
is taken somewhere else
and here he is
this battered husband
watching him with so
much understanding
her doctor will be coming
again today
for her injections
***
«Contentment» by Sherri Wipperman
Since the day I met you I have found
This feeling that abides within.
A constant that inhabits my heart,
A knowing that lingers,
A sense that has been.
When I awake, it rises with me like the sun.
When I lie down, it embraces me like a blanket of warmth.
When I am emotionally entangled, it centers my core.
When I am soaring above the clouds, it is my wind.
A constant, a knowing,
I reside upon this hearth.
So you ask, “My love, what can this be…”
“What is this knowing that has so captured thee?”
Indeed, my response would be to you alone.
None other would hear these words that I have now sown…
Gratification of perfected contentment would be my simple reply.
It is a peace that surpasses the security of a fortress,
A knowing that your heart is true to me alone,
A glance at us in the distance that tells me our love shall overcome.
This is our destiny, our belonging, our fulfillment is to be One.
For I know that you love me, and that our love is true,
That no matter the chaos, the excitement, or the fears
I know you love me as deeply as I love you.
That knowing grounds me and stabilizes the forces within
so that the winds of change, demands, and the external climate are quieted
And all I hear whispering gently, yet ever so softly is the knowing,
The comfort that you will always be near…
This, my love, is what I know.
***
«Epilogue To The Husband His Own Cuckold» by John Dryden
Like some raw sophister that mounts the pulpit,
So trembles a young poet at a full pit.
Unused to crowds, the parson quakes for fear,
And wonders how the devil he durst come there;
Wanting three talents needful for the place,
Some beard, some learning, and some little grace.
Nor is the puny poet void of care;
For authors, such as our new authors are,
Have not much learning, nor much wit to spare;
And as for grace, to tell the truth, there’s scarce one,
But has as little as the very parson:
Both say, they preach and write for your instruction;
But ’tis for a third day, and for induction.
The difference is, that though you like the play,
The poet’s gain is ne’er beyond his day;
But with the parson ’tis another case,
He, without holiness, may rise to grace;
The poet has one disadvantage more,
That if his play be dull, he’s damned all o’er,
Not only a damn’d blockhead, but damn’d poor.
But dulness well becomes the sable garment;
I warrant that ne’er spoiled a priest’s preferment;
Wit’s not his business, and as wit now goes,
Sirs, ’tis not so much yours as you suppose,
For you like nothing now but nauseous beaux.
You laugh not, gallants, as by proof appears,
At what his beauship says, but what he wears;
So ’tis your eyes are tickled, not your ears.
The tailor and the furrier find the stuff,
The wit lies in the dress, and monstrous muff.
The truth on ‘t is, the payment of the pit
Is like for like, clipt money for clipt wit.
You cannot from our absent author hope,
He should equip the stage with such a fop.
Fools change in England, and new fools arise;
For, though the immortal species never dies,
Yet every year new maggots make new flies.
But where he lives abroad, he scarce can find
One fool, for million that he left behind.
***
«Epistle From Mrs. Yonge To Her Husband» by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
Think not this paper comes with vain pretense
To move your pity, or to mourn th’offense.
Too well I know that hard obdurate heart;
No softening mercy there will take my part,
Nor can a woman’s arguments prevail,
When even your patron’s wise example fails.
But this last privilege I still retain;
Th’oppressed and injured always may complain.
Too, too severely laws of honor bind
The weak submissive sex of womankind.
If sighs have gained or force compelled our hand,
Deceived by art, or urged by stern command,
Whatever motive binds the fatal tie,
The judging world expects our constancy.
Just heaven! (for sure in heaven does justice reign,
Though tricks below that sacred name profane)
To you appealing I submit my cause,
Nor fear a judgment from impartial laws.
All bargains but conditional are made;
The purchase void, the creditor unpaid;
Defrauded servants are from service free;
A wounded slave regains his liberty.
For wives ill used no remedy remains,
To daily racks condemned, and to eternal chains.
From whence is this unjust distinction grown?
Are we not formed with passions like your own?
Nature with equal fire our souls endued,
Our minds as haughty, and as warm our blood;
O’er the wide world your pleasures you pursue,
The change is justified by something new;
But we must sigh in silence — and be true.
Our sex’s weakness you expose and blame
(Of every prattling fop the common theme).
Yet from this weakness you suppose is due
Sublimer virtue than your Cato knew.
Had heaven designed us trials so severe,
It would have formed our tempers then to bear.
And I have borne (oh what have I not borne!)
The pang of jealousy, the insults of scorn.
Wearied at length, I from your sight remove,
And place my future hopes in secret love.
In the gay bloom of glowing youth retired,
I quit the woman’s joy to be admired,
With that small pension your hard heart allows,
Renounce your fortune, and release your vows.
To custom (though unjust) so much is due;
I hide my frailty from the public view.
My conscience clear, yet sensible of shame,
My life I hazard, to preserve my fame.
And I prefer this low inglorious state
To vile dependence on the thing I hate —
But you pursue me to this last retreat.
Dragged into light, my tender crime is shown
And every circumstance of fondness known.
Beneath the shelter of the law you stand,
And urge my ruin with a cruel hand,
While to my fault thus rigidly severe,
Tamely submissive to the man you fear.
This wretched outcast, this abandoned wife,
Has yet this joy to sweeten shameful life:
By your mean conduct, infamously loose,
You are at once my accuser and excuse.
Let me be damned by the censorious prude
(stupidly dull, or spiritually lewd),
My hapless case will surely pity find
From every just and reasonable mind.
When to the final sentence I submit,
The lips condemn me, but their souls acquit.
No more my husband, to your pleasures go,
The sweets of your recovered freedom know.
Go: court the brittle friendship of the great,
Smile at his board, or at his levee wait;
And when dismissed, to madam’s toilet fly,
More than her chambermaids, or glasses, lie,
Tell her how young she looks, how heavenly fair,
Admire the lilies and the roses there.
Your high ambition may be gratified,
Some cousin of her own be made your bride,
And you the father of a glorious race
Endowed with Ch——l’s strength and Low—r’s face.
***
«For My Husband» by Erica Jong
You sleep in the darkness,
you with the back I love
& the gift of sleeping
through my noisy nights of poetry.
I have taken other men into my thoughts
since I met you.
I have loved parts of them.
But only you sleep on through the darkness
like a mountain where my house is planted,
like a rock on which my temple stands,
like a great dictionary holding every word-
even some
I have never spoken.
You breathe.
The pages of your dreams are riffled
by the winds of my writing.
The pillow creases your cheek
as I cover pages.
Element in which I swim
or fly,
silent muse, backbone, companion-
it is unfashionable
to confess to marriage-
yet I feel no bondage
in this air we share.
***
«For My Husband» by Lisa
You are my first thought in the morning,
My last thought at night.
For you, I have always been longing.
You bring me so much delight.
You have changed my life so much.
You have a special kiss
And a special touch.
Forever we will be like this.
We met over 8 years ago,
A brilliant 8 years it has been.
Oh…where does the time go?
There was such a big space in between,
But we came through it.
Although it always seemed mean,
It was well worth it.
Being able to get a cuddle from you
Makes me so happy and feel wanted.
Everything you do,
Some I may take for granted,
But nothing can be stronger than my love for you.
What we have is bliss.
Even though we have ups and downs,
Nothing can come between this.
We have our smiles and our frowns,
But when we kiss and cuddle
All the frowns seem to drown.
***
«For The Restoration Of My Dear Husband» From A Burning Ague, June, 1661 by Anne Bradstreet
When feares and sorrowes me besett,
Then did’st thou rid me out;
When heart did faint and spirits quail,
Thou comforts me about.
Thou rais’st him vp I feard to loose,
Regau’st me him again:
Distempers thou didst chase away;
With strenght didst him sustain.
My thankfull heart, with Pen record
The Goodnes of thy God;
Let thy obedience testefye
He taught thee by his rod.
And with his staffe did thee support,
That thou by both may’st learn;
And ‘twixt the good and evill way,
At last, thou mig’st discern.
Praises to him who hath not left
My Soul as destitute;
Nor turnd his ear away from me,
But graunted hath my Suit.
***
«Her Late Husband» by Thomas Hardy
“No–not where I shall make my own;
But dig his grave just by
The woman’s with the initialed stone –
As near as he can lie –
After whose death he seemed to ail,
Though none considered why.
“And when I also claim a nook,
And your feet tread me in,
Bestow me, under my old name,
Among my kith and kin,
That strangers gazing may not dream
I did a husband win.”
“Widow, your wish shall be obeyed;
Though, thought I, certainly
You’d lay him where your folk are laid,
And your grave, too, will be,
As custom hath it; you to right,
And on the left hand he.”
“Aye, sexton; such the Hintock rule,
And none has said it nay;
But now it haps a native here
Eschews that ancient way . . .
And it may be, some Christmas night,
When angels walk, they’ll say:
“‘O strange interment! Civilized lands
Afford few types thereof;
Here is a man who takes his rest
Beside his very Love,
Beside the one who was his wife
In our sight up above!’
***
«Husband And… » by Hasmukh Amathalal
Husband and wife
Wives are considered as an obedient
They live happily and serve at present
The husband and children are taken care of
Despite you dig at her and make laugh
Generally husbands are blamed
For taking views one sided
Go to her only for sexual abuse
Give all what is needed to defuse the tension
She has lot more things to take into account
The pressure is on to mount
She hides pain from mere devotional point
“Ideal wife” as she prefers to be painted
Children may stay inclined
Husbands too very heavily fined
For not caring ailing partner
This is really bad factor
Let us be reasonable
Some of the accusation invite troubles
As husband has to earn and maintain
Despite taking heavy economic burden
***
«Husband I Miss You» by Aish The Inkygirl
Since you’ve been away,
i feel an empty space that can never be replaced.
Everyday i have to feel these tears roll down my face,
because of all the memories i just cant erase.
Hubby i just need to have you home.
It hurts me too much when i hear your voice over a phone.
2 weeks jared? that is way too long.
By then im sure my mind will be gone, but for you mi amor,
i will stay strong, i will hold on.
I feel so lost without you.
Move on & live my life? i don’t want to.
To be honest that is something my heart wont let me do.
No matter how many timez i try.
My love is to strong to be with you.
You’re the one & only man for me.
I truely believe we were meant to be.
Every day that i live without you i feel my heart breaking.
With every breath im taking,
every move im making & every smile im faking.
HUBBY I LOVE YOU.
I’ll be right here…
Waiting.
***
«I Have Spent A Lifetime» by Najoya Stewart-Leslie
I have spent a lifetime loving you
the way you smile
the way you talk
the way you walk
the way you are
I have spent a lifetime loving you
through the years and the changes
through the ups and through the downs
our souls have mated
from childhood until now
this place in time
our paths intertwined
our destinies forever crossed
I have spent a lifetime loving you
***
«If I Forget To Tell You» by Jac Judy A. Campbell
If I forget to tell you, I had a wonderful time
For all the todays and tomorrows
And for the years we left behind.
If I forget to tell you, I love your calm
And gentle ways and how you never
Lose your cool, even on our troubled days.
And you tell me that you care for me more
Than you can ever say, and you love me more
Than anyone can on any given day.
And what about the silly things we laugh at
In the night, and how you always try your best
To make things work out right.
And you give me all I ever need, and you give
Me so much more, especially love from inside
Your heart that I fondly hold in store.
You shower me with treasures, the ones that
Money can’t buy, and there are many times
You’ve protected me while walking by my side.
And how about the memories through these
Years we’ve shared and the blessings you bestow
Upon me; nothing can compare.
So to you these words I’ve written from my heart
Are true; someday I’ll write a few more lines and
Add a page or two
Just in case I forget to tell you.
***
«In My Solitary Hours In My Dear Husband His Absence» by Anne Bradstreet
O Lord, Thou hear’st my daily moan
And see’st my dropping tears.
My troubles all are Thee before,
My longings and my fears.
Thou hitherto hast been my God;
Thy help my soul hath found.
Though loss and sickness me assailed,
Through Thee I’ve kept my ground.
And Thy abode Thou’st made with me;
With Thee my soul can talk;
In secret places Thee I find
Where I do kneel or walk.
Though husband dear be from me gone,
Whom I do love so well,
I have a more beloved one
Whose comforts far excel.
O stay my heart on Thee. my God,
Uphold my fainting soul.
And when I know not what to do,
I’ll on Thy mercies roll.
My weakness. Thou dost know full well
Of body and of mind;
I in this world no comfort have,
But what from Thee I find.
Though children Thou has given me,
And friends I have also,
Yet if I see Thee not through them
They are no joy, but woe.
O shine upon me, blessed Lord,
Ev’n for my Saviour’s sake;
In Thee alone is more than all,
And there content I’ll take.
O hear me, Lord, in this request
As Thou before hast done,
Bring back my husband, I beseech,
As Thou didst once my son.
So shall I celebrate Thy praise
Ev’n while my days shall last
And talk to my beloved one
Of all Thy goodness past.
So both of us Thy kindness, Lord,
With praises shall recount
And serve Thee better than before
Whose blessings thus surmount.
But give me, Lord, a better heart,
Then better shall I be,
To pay the vows which I do owe
Forever unto Thee.
Unless Thou help, what can I do
But still my frailty show?
If Thou assist me, Lord,
I shall Return Thee what I owe.
***
«Love Is Patient» by Haileigh B. Johnston
You tell me every day
How much I mean to you.
Now it’s time for me to say
What I know is absolutely true.
I know how much you love me
And just how much you care.
You don’t always have to say it
Because you do just by being there.
I know you really worry
Every time my mood seems to change.
I want you and only you,
No matter how often I act strange.
I may not have life figured out,
But trust me, that’s okay.
Because with you, no matter what,
I have the strength to make it through each day.
You love me on my bad days
More than you do the good ones.
You love me more when you’ve had enough
And think that you should run.
You always know when to hold me down
But never hold me back.
I know I fail at tasks a lot,
But you always pick up the slack.
Don’t ever doubt yourself
On if what you’re doing is right.
Just know that I am so thankful
To have a man like you in my life.
I know I’m not always the best
When it comes to getting things done,
But that is why I have you
And how I know you are the one.
***
«Man Of The Year» by Aimee Rice
You’ve been in our lives for so many seasons
I’m pouring my heart out for that very reason
I’ve given you life, my husband and friend
Our love affair shall never end
And though our love has been through the fire
You and only you are my true heart’s desire
I pray for the man that is paving the way
For our children each and every day
A man who is…
FEARLESS
A man who’s…
ADMIRABLE, TRUSTWORTHY,
HEROIC, EXCEPTIONALLY RELIABLE
It’s no wonder why God’s on your side
He gave you the strength to father a child
And even when we don’t know what to say
Your wisdom consistently saves the day
I opened my heart to you, simply to say…
YOU’RE THE BEST HUSBAND AND DAD
***
«My Blessing In Life» by Jessica L. Newsome
Every morning I wake up and see
The most handsome man lying next to me.
He’s the one I cherish and love,
A blessing sent from Heaven above.
I will love him as a faithful wife should
And do everything for him I could.
I would let him know every day
That I love him more than words can say.
For the two children we have together
And the love for God in each other,
It will keep our love for each other strong,
And the Lord will guide us away from all wrong.
***
«My Covering» by Wanda J. Mobley
I know what it feels like to wait on a breakthrough,
Meanwhile trusting God to see us through!
I know what it feels like to hold your hand
On bended knees, seeking the Father’s plan.
I know what it feels like to cry all night long
Just to be reminded by you in the morning light
That Jesus is our new song…
I know what it feels like to almost lose hope,
But having you in my life strengthens my rope…
Thank you for being a compassionate guide,
Assisting in my footsteps
And believing in what God has provided.
You are more than a friend, husband, or lover.
You are my protector, my provider.
You are my cover!
Because of you,
I know what it feels like to be loved
***
«My Husband, My Soldier, My Hero, My Friend» by Courtney Lane
When its late at night
And I am all alone
I look up at the sky
And remember you are gone
Gone from this place
Where I am at now
Gone to a place
That I disavow
It’s hot and sandy
I never want to go
It’s far and distant
I will never fully know
When I get a call
Few and far between
You have to watch what you say
For reasons left unseen
I don’t know what you’re doing
Or where you are at.
I don’t know who your with
Are you somewhere in combat?
I want you here with me
I want you by my side
I want you for my self
This feeling I will not hide
There is so much you are missing
With our little girl
You’ve never even seen
Her cute little curl
Somewhere in Iraq
Fighting in their war
Is my loving husband
Of whom I most adore
Months go by
Time fades away
My love grows stronger
Each and everyday
My husband, my soldier
My hero, my friend
I love you right now
I love you till the end
Before we even know it
You will be home
In this place together
We will forever roam
My husband, my soldier
My hero, my friend
You and me together
Our love will transcend
***
«My Husband» by Aish The Inkygirl
Amongst the stars that are in the sky
You are the most shining and brightest
Along the long, task road of life
You have been at my side
You have wiped out my tears
All through the years
But Oh..! My dear
I have done nothing for you
I have always tried my best
To make fights with you
But I know my dear
Like stars studded in the sky
Your heart is vast and wide
And hence I will always LOVE YOU….!
***
«My Husband» by Anju Addanki
Husband is someone;
You spend most of your life with.
And with him;
You are for years.
My life has become strong;
For my husband is not wrong.
My life has become independent;
For my husband never let me dependent.
My life has become pure;
For my husband had every cure.
My life has become romantic;
For my husband is very aromatic.
My life had a new beginning;
For my husband was nearing.
And the most valuable gift-
My husband has given me;
Are my 2 wonderful and the best kids-
And I thank God,
For the wonderful family he has given me.
***
«My Husband» by Erica Francis
It is true:
My husband
has never
taken out
the garbage
from our little house
in the suburbs.
My husband
has never
taken our children
out for the night
to trick-or-treating
as I sit
on the porch in a witch hat.
My husband
has never
come home from
a long day
to a special meal
I have prepared
just for him.
My husband
has never
told me he loves me
beside a warm fire
on our honeymoon.
But he will.
***
«My One And Only Love» by Antoinette McDonald
The sound of YOUR voice is like…
A whisper to my ears,
Pure and pleasant to hear!
The sparkle of YOUR eyes…
Are as glitter
Enlightening me – showing me
TRUE LOVE!
The smell of YOUR body…
Excites and makes me hunger and
Thirst for thee!
YOUR lips…
Taste as sweet as honey,
Touching my very soul!
YOUR touch…
Hot as a burning flame,
Seeking to devour me!
LOVING ME and ONLY ME!
***
«My Wife’s Second Husband» by Henry Lawson
THE WORLD goes round, old fellow,
And still I’m in the swim,
While my wife’s second husband
Is growing old and grim.
I meet him in the city—
It all seems very tame—
He glances at me sometimes
As if I were to blame.
Oh, my wife’s second husband
Was handsome, young and true;
He had his boyish visions
(I had my visions too).
He made a model lover—
The greenest in the game—
They say, when I was married
That I was just the same.
Though I am ten years older
My hair is dark to-day,
While my wife’s second husband
Is quickly growing grey.
I drank when first he knew me,
And he drank not at all;
I see that he, through drinking,
Is going to the wall.
A sweet ill-treated woman,
A drunken brute (Good Lord!)—
Ah, well, she got her freedom,
And he got his reward.
He’ll fight it out a season,
For Fate will not be forced,
But my wife’s second husband
Shall surely be divorced.
I sympathize, and wonder
What mutual friends would think
If my wife’s second husband
And I should have a drink.
And I a mere bystander—
It almost seems absurd—
Might lay prophetically
My hand on my wife’s third.
But my wife’s second husband
His sorrows shall forget,
We’ll clasp warm hands in friendship
And clink our glasses yet.
We’ll smoke cigars together,
In pure philosophy,
While calmly contemplating
The fate of number three.
***
«On Sharing A Husband» by Ho Xuan Huong
Screw the fate that makes you share a man.
One cuddles under cotton blankets; the other’s cold.
Every now and then, well, maybe or maybe not,
once or twice a month, oh, it’s like nothing.
You try to stick to it like a fly on rice
but the rice is rotten. You slave like the maid,
but without pay. If I had known how it would go
I think I would have lived alone.
***
«Our Romance» by Susan L. Malone
Twas the night before Sunday
When all through the bar
Texans were dancing
Beneath the Lone Star
When what to my wandering eyes should appear
A handsome young Texan
Buying a beer
Our love story started
Right there, right then
Joy Unexplainable
Least not by pen
If I had your attention
For a lifetime or so
I could tell you about the man
I’ve come to know
He is the best husband
Now the best dad
I am living the life
I wish all could have
Years later
We stroll hand in hand
Thanking the Lord
For His Perfect Plan
***
«Prologue To Steele’s Tender Husband» by Joseph Addison
In the first rise and infancy of farce,
When fools were many, and when plays were scarce
The raw unpractis’d authors could, with ease,
A young and unexperienc’d audience please:
No single character had e’er been shown,
But the whole herd of fops was all their own;
Rich in originals, they set to view,
In every piece, a coxcomb that was new.
But now our British theatre can boast
Drolls of all kinds, a vast unthinking host!
Fruitful of folly and of vice, it shows
Cuckolds, and cits, and bawds, and pimps, and beaux;
Rough country knights are found of every shire;
Of every fashion gentle fops appear;
And punks of different characters we meet,
As frequent on the stage as in the pit.
Our modern wits are forc’d to pick and cull,
And here and there by chance glean up a fool:
Long ere they find the necessary spark,
They search the town, and beat about the Park,
To all his most frequented haunts resort,
Oft dog him to the ring, and oft to court;
As love of pleasure or of place invites;
And sometimes catch him taking snuff at White’s
Howe’er, to do you right, the present age
Breeds very hopeful monsters for the stage;
That scorn the paths their dull forefather’s trod,
And won’t be blockheads in the common road.
Do but survey this crouded house tonight:
–Here’s still encouragement for those that write.
Our author, to divert his friends to-day,
Stocks with variety of fools his play;
And that there may be something gay and new,
Two ladies-errant has expos’d to view;
The first a damsel, travel’d in romance;
The t’other more refin’d, she comes from France:
Rescue, like courteous knights, the nymph from danger,
And kindly treat, like well-bred men, the stranger.
***
«Satisfied» by Dina Johnson
When you make love to me everything seems right,
You seem to take my hand and guide me through the night.
You reach to take my fears and throw them to the past,
You penetrate my soul in hopes to make it last.
And you standing with me, never shall I be afraid.
My inner core you’ve touched, my sanity you’ve saved.
But if you feel you can’t be strong in all my times of need,
You’ve given me a strength, somehow I’ll take the lead.
Never understanding, accepting what time may give
We’ll learn and grow together,
Cherishing each moment that we live.
***
«The Dutiful Husband» by Theresa Bush
Comes home from work
all fires are out with only a squirt.
A quiet evening he looks forward to,
just Bill O’Reilly, a glass of wine will do.
His loyal wife – some news she has,
The Dryer – it’s broke – I’m lost
she cries.
With bulging eyes and clenched white fists, he calmly says:
Put It On My List
She paces and paces and gives a shrill,
till finally she wins over dear ole Bill.
The dryer is dragged from its’ lint filled nitch,
unscrewed in places where only midgets could fit.
Adjectives fly from this wine filled mouth
WHERE’S MY TOOLS he says with a shout.
Hours pass, parts askew, sweat on his brow ;
(Oh more wine will do!)
FORGET IT he says
OUT IS GOES
‘GET MY MONEY, WE’RE GOING TO LOWES.
Thank You Dear!
***
«The Happy Husband» by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Oft, oft, methinks, the while with thee
I breathe, as from the heart, thy dear
And dedicated bame, I hear
A promise and a mystery,
A pledge of more than passing life,
Yea, in that very name of wife!
A pulse of love that ne’er can sleep!
A feeling that upbraids the heart
With happiness beyond desert,
That gladness half requests to weep!
Nor bless I not the keener sense
And unalarming turbulence.
Of transient joys, that ask no sting
From jealous fears, or coy denying;
But born beneath Love’s brooding wing,
And into tenderness soon dying.
Wheel out their giddy moment, then
Resign the soul to love again;
A more precipitated vein
Of notes that eddy in the flow
Of smoothest song, they come, they go,
And leave their sweeter understrain
Its own sweet self-a love of thee
That seems, yet cannot greater be!
***
«The Husband And Wife» by Bill Simmons
What ever happened to the husband and wife
What ever happened to love
What ever happened to the dreams they thought right
That they both thought so much of
What ever happened to the holding of hands
Or the whispers of secrets to keep
Did it somehow slip away with the time
Is it somewhere still hidden beneath
What ever happened to the words I do
Replaced now with words of cruel
Does somehow it still linger on
Is love only lost and confused
What ever happened to the romance
And the love that was in each breath we took
Must somehow be forgotten now
Was this in the chances we took
What ever happened to the husband and wife
What ever happened to love
What will now happen to the rest of our lives
For love, was it overlooked
What will now happen to the dreams we once had
When the world was right at our feet
Is love somehow still hidden somewhere
Or is this the way it must be
There once was a time when it meant so much more
When love walked with us in life
What ever happened to the love in our hearts
What happened to the husband and wife.
***
«The Husband Of To-Day» by Edith Nesbit
EYES caught by beauty, fancy by eyes caught;
Sweet possibilities, question, and wonder–
What did her smile say? What has her brain thought?
Her standard, what? Am I o’er it or under?
Flutter in meeting–in absence dreaming;
Tremor in greeting–for meeting scheming;
Caught by the senses, and yet all through
True with the heart of me, sweetheart, to you.
Only the brute in me yields to the pressure
Of longings inherent–of vices acquired;
All this, my darling, is folly–not pleasure,
Only my fancy–not soul–has been fired.
Sense thrills exalted, thrills to love-madness;
Fancy grown sad becomes almost love-sadness;
And yet love has with it nothing to do,
Love is fast fettered, sweetheart, to you.
Lacking fresh fancies, time flags–grows wingless;
Life without folly would fail–fall flat;
But the love that lights life, and makes death’s self stingless–
You, and you only, have wakened that.
Sweet are all women, you are the best of them;
You are so dear because dear are the rest of them;
After each fancy has sprung, grown, and died,
Back I come ever, dear, to your side.
The strongest of passions–in joy–seeks the new,
But in grief I turn ever, sweetheart, to you.
***
«The Husband» by Leon Gellert
Yes, I have slain, and taken moving life
From bodies. Yea! And laughed upon the taking;
And, having slain, have whetted still the knife
For more and more, and heeded not the making
Of things that I was killing. Such ’twas then!
But now the thirst so hideous has left me.
I live within a coolness, among calm men,
And yet am strange. A something has bereft me
Of a seeing, and strangely love returns;
And old desires half-known, and hanging sorrows.
I seem agaze with wonder. Memory burns.
I see a thousand vague and sad tomorrows.
None sees my sadness. No one understands
How I must touch her hair with bloody hands.
***
«The Ideal Husband To His Wife» by Sam Walter Foss
We’ve lived for forty years, dear wife,
And walked together side by side,
And you to-day are just as dear
As when you were my bride.
I’ve tried to make life glad for you,
One long, sweet honeymoon of joy,
A dream of marital content,
Without the least alloy.
I’ve smoothed all boulders from our path,
That we in peace might toil along,
By always hastening to admit
That I was right and you were wrong.
No mad diversity of creed
Has ever sundered me from thee;
For I permit you evermore
To borrow your ideas of me.
And thus it is, through weal or woe,
Our love forevermore endures;
For I permit that you should take
My views and creeds, and make them yours.
And thus I let you have my way,
And thus in peace we toil along,
For I am willing to admit
That I am right and you are wrong.
And when our matrimonial skiff
Strikes snags in love’s meandering stream,
I lift our shallop from the rocks,
And float as in a placid dream.
And well I know our marriage bliss
While life shall last will never cease;
For I shall always let thee do,
In generous love, just what I please.
Peace comes, and discord flies away,
Love’s bright day follows hatred’s night;
For I am ready to admit
That you are wrong and I am right.
***
«The Jungle Husband» by Stevie Smith
Dearest Evelyn, I often think of you
Out with the guns in the jungle stew
Yesterday I hittapotamus
I put the measurements down for you but they got lost in the fuss
It’s not a good thing to drink out here
You know, I’ve practically given it up dear.
Tomorrow I am going alone a long way
Into the jungle. It is all grey
But green on top
Only sometimes when a tree has fallen
The sun comes down plop, it is quite appalling.
You never want to go in a jungle pool
In the hot sun, it would be the act of a fool
Because it’s always full of anacondas, Evelyn, not looking ill-fed
I’ll say. So no more now, from your loving husband Wilfred.
***
«The Love Of My Life» by Lisa Roberts
Without you, my dear
I would not be here
I would not be the person I am today
You support me and you love me…
Unconditionally.
I feel so unworthy,
So unlovable because of my past
But toward me you don’t turn your back
That’s what makes me stronger
To know your love me gives me strength.
To feel it, to see it still, after being tested all the time
I’m really glad you are mine!
The persistence you have gives me my answer
You love me like nobody else can.
Unfaltering love
That is what I have prayed for from above
You are my saving grace
Without you, I would be out of place.
Not in the place I am supposed to be
The place where I belong;
Next to you forever
And really that’s not so long.
I love you with all my heart
I am so glad you put me in your cart!
***
«To A Husband» by Anne Kingsmill Finch
This is to the crown and blessing of my life,
The much loved husband of a happy wife;
To him whose constant passion found the art
To win a stubborn and ungrateful heart,
And to the world by tenderest proof discovers
They err, who say that husbands can’t be lovers.
With such return of passion, as is due,
Daphnis I love, Daphinis my thoughts pursue;
Daphnis, my hopes and joys are bounded all in you.
Even I, for Daphnis’ and my promise’ sake,
What I in woman censure, undertake.
But this from love, not vanity proceeds;
You know who writes, and I who ’tis that reads.
Judge not my passion by my want of skill:
Many love well, though they express it ill;
And I your censure could with pleasure bear,
Would you but soon return, and speak it here.
***
«To A Lady On The Death Of Her Husband» by Phillis Wheatley
GRIM monarch! see, depriv’d of vital breath,
A young physician in the dust of death:
Dost thou go on incessant to destroy,
Our griefs to double, and lay waste our joy?
Enough thou never yet wast known to say,
Though millions die, the vassals of thy sway:
Nor youth, nor science, not the ties of love,
Nor ought on earth thy flinty heart can move.
The friend, the spouse from his dire dart to save,
In vain we ask the sovereign of the grave.
Fair mourner, there see thy lov’d Leonard laid,
And o’er him spread the deep impervious shade.
Clos’d are his eyes, and heavy fetters keep
His senses bound in never-waking sleep,
Till time shall cease, till many a starry world
Shall fall from heav’n, in dire confusion hurl’d
Till nature in her final wreck shall lie,
And her last groan shall rend the azure sky:
Not, not till then his active soul shall claim
His body, a divine immortal frame.
But see the softly-stealing tears apace
Pursue each other down the mourner’s face;
But cease thy tears, bid ev’ry sigh depart,
And cast the load of anguish from thine heart:
From the cold shell of his great soul arise,
And look beyond, thou native of the skies;
There fix thy view, where fleeter than the wind
Thy Leonard mounts, and leaves the earth behind.
Thyself prepare to pass the vale of night
To join for ever on the hills of light:
To thine embrace this joyful spirit moves
To thee, the partner of his earthly loves;
He welcomes thee to pleasures more refin’d,
And better suited to th’ immortal mind.
***
«To My Dear And Loving Husband» by Anne Bradstreet
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov’d by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompetence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay.
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let’s so persever
That when we live no more, we may live ever.
***
«To My Husband On Our Wedding-Day» by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
I leave for thee, beloved one,
The home and friends of youth,
Trusting my hopes, my happiness,
Unto thy love and truth;
I leave for thee my girlhood’s joys,
Its sunny, careless mirth,
To bear henceforth my share amid
The many cares of earth.
And yet, no wild regret I give
To all that now I leave,
The golden dreams, the flow’ry wreaths
That I no more may weave;
The future that before me lies
A dark and unknown sea —
Whate’er may be its storms or shoals,
I brave them all with thee!
I will not tell thee now of love
Whose life, ere this, thou’st guessed,
And which, like sacred secret, long
Was treasured in my breast;
Enough that if thy lot be calm,
Or storms should o’er it sweep,
Thou’lt learn that it is woman’s love,
Unchanging, pure and deep.
If this life’s sunshine gild thy lot,
Bestowing wealth and pride,
Its light enjoying, I shall stand,
Rejoicing, at thy side;
But, oh! if thou should’st prove the griefs
That blight thy fellow-men,
‘Twill be my highest, dearest right,
To be, love, with thee then.
And thou, wilt thou not promise me
Thy heart will never change,
That tones and looks, so loving now,
Will ne’er grow stern and strange?
That thou’lt be kind, whatever faults
Or failings may be mine,
And bear with them in patient love,
As I will bear with thine?
***
«Upon My Dear And Loving Husband His Going Into England» Jan. 16, 1661 by Anne Bradstreet
O thou Most High who rulest all
And hear’st the prayers of thine,
O hearken, Lord, unto my suit
And my petition sign.
Into Thy everlasting arms Of mercy
I commend Thy servant, Lord.
Keep and preserve My husband,
my dear friend.
At Thy command, O Lord, he went,
Nor nought could keep him back.
Then let Thy promise joy his heart,
O help and be not slack.
Uphold my heart in Thee, O God.
Thou art my strength and stay,
Thou see’st how weak and frail I am,
Hide not Thy face away.
I in obedience to Thy will
Thou knowest did submit.
It was my duty so to do;
O Lord, accept of it.
Unthankfulness for mercies past
Impute Thou not to me.
O Lord, Thou know’st my weak desire
Was to sing praise to Thee.
Lord, be Thou pilot to the ship
And send them prosperous gales.
In storms and sickness, Lord, preserve.
Thy goodness never fails.
Unto Thy work he hath in hand
Lord, grant Thou good success
And favour in their eyes to whom
He shall make his address.
Remember, Lord, Thy folk whom Thou
To wilderness hast brought;
Let not Thine own inheritance
Be sold away for nought.
But tokens of Thy favour give,
With joy send back my dear
That I and all Thy servants may
Rejoice with heavenly cheer.
Lord, let my eyes see once again
Him whom Thou gavest me
That we together may sing praise
Forever unto Thee.
And the remainder of our days
Shall consecrated be
With an engaged heart to sing
All praises unto Thee.
***
«Verses Wrote On Her Death-Bed At Bath, To Her Husband In London» by Mary Monck
Thou, who dost all my worldly thoughts employ,
Thou pleasing source of all my earthly joy:
Thou tend’rest husband, and thou best of friends,
To thee this first, this last adieu I send.
At length the conqu’ror death asserts his right,
And will for ever veil me from thy sight.
He wooes me to him with a chearful grace;
And not one terror clouds his meagre face.
He promises a lasting rest from pain;
And shews that all life’s fleeting joys are vain.
Th’ eternal scenes of heav’n he sets in view,
And tells me that no other joys are true.
But love, fond love, would yet resist his pow’r;
Would fain awhile defer the parting hour:
He brings thy mourning image to my eyes,
And would obstruct my journey to the skies.
But say, thou dearest, thou unwearied friend;
Say, should’st thou grieve to see my sorrows end?
Thou know’st a painful pilgrimage I’ve past ;
And should’st thou grieve that rest is come at last?
Rather rejoice to see me shake off life,
And die as I have liv’d, thy faithful wife.
***
«Wife To Husband» by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Pardon the faults in me,
For the love of years ago:
Good-bye.
I must drift across the sea,
I must sink into the snow,
I must die.
You can bask in this sun,
You can drink wine, and eat:
Good-bye.
I must gird myself and run,
Though with unready feet:
I must die.
Blank sea to sail upon,
Cold bed to sleep in:
Good-bye.
While you clasp, I must be gone
For all your weeping:
I must die.
A kiss for one friend,
And a word for two,—
Good-bye:—
A lock that you must send,
A kindness you must do:
I must die.
Not a word for you,
Not a lock or kiss,
Good-bye.
We, one, must part in two;
Verily death is this:
I must die.
***
«Will You Ever Understand?» by Toni
I don’t think you will
ever fully understand
how you’ve touched my life
and made me who I am.
I don’t think you could ever know
just how truly special you are,
that even on the darkest nights
you are my brightest star.
I don’t think you will ever fully comprehend
how you’ve made my dreams come true
or how you’ve opened my heart
to love and the wonders it can do.
You’ve allowed me to experience
something very hard to find:
unconditional love that exists
in my body, soul, and mind.
I don’t think you could ever feel
all the love I have to give,
and I’m sure you’ll never realize
you’ve been my will to live.
You are an amazing person,
and without you I don’t know where I’d be.
Having you in my life
completes and fulfills every part of me.
