THANK Heaven, the burthens on the heart Are not half known till they depart! Although I long'd, for many a year, To love with love that casts out fear, My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me, And heaven seem'd less far off than he; And in my fancy I would trace A lady with an angel's face, That made devotion simply debt, Till sick with envy and regret, And wicked grief that God should e'er Make women, and not make them fair. That he might love me more because Another in his memory was, And that my indigence might be To him what Baby's was to me, The chief of charms, who could have thought? But God's wise way is to give nought Till we with asking it are tired; And when, indeed, the change desired Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise, It comes by Providence, not Grace; And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs Are groans at unexpected cares. First Baby went to heaven, you know, And, five weeks after, Grace went, too. Then he became more talkative, And, stooping to my heart, would give Signs of his love, which pleased me more Than all the proofs he gave before; And, in that time of our great grief, We talk'd religion for relief; For, though we very seldom name Religion, we now think the same! Oh, what a bar is thus removed To loving and to being loved! For no agreement really is In anything when none's in this. Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd His wife against his hearty breast, The interior difference seem'd to tear My own, until I could not bear The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife, And show'd, indeed, that faith is life. He never felt this. If he did, I'm sure it could not have been hid; For wives, I need not say to you, Can feel just what their husbands do, Without a word or look; but then It is not so, you know, with men. From that time many a Scripture text Help'd me, which had, before, perplex'd. Oh, what a wond'rous word seem'd this: He is my head, as Christ is his! None ever could have dared to see In marriage such a dignity For man, and for his wife, still less, Such happy, happy lowliness, Had God himself not made it plain! This revelation lays the rein -- If I may speak so -- on the neck Of a wife's love, takes thence the check Of conscience, and forbids to doubt Its measure is to be without All measure, and a fond excess Is here her rule of godliness. I took him not for love but fright; He did but ask a dreadful right. In this was love, that he loved me The first, who was mere poverty. All that I know of love he taught; And love is all I know of aught. My merit is so small by his, That my demerit is my bliss. My life is hid with him in Christ, Never thencefrom to be enticed; And in his strength have I such rest As when the baby on my breast Finds what it knows not how to seek, And, very happy, very weak, Lies, only knowing all is well, Pillow'd on kindness palpable. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VASHTI by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER GRACE FOR CHILDREN by ROBERT HERRICK THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES; THE 10TH SATIRE OF JUVENAL, IMITATED by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE SECOND DAY: LADY WENTWORTH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AS I SIT WRITING HERE by WALT WHITMAN |