To My Wife.
Where e'er thou goest I will go,
And share with thee in weal or wo—
And where thy wearied footsteps rest,
Thy head shall pillow on my breast.
Thy people shall my people be—
Thy kindred find a friend in me—
Thy God shall be my God—one hope
Shall bear our fainting spirits up.
My earthly joys with thee shall die,
And in thy grave forgotten lie—
So God in justice deal with me,
If aught but death part me and thee.
HANOVER.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
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