Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
To His Wife
By Joseph Stansbury (17501809)To Cordelia
B
O’er Nova Scotia’s wilds to roam,
While far from children, friends, or wife,
Or place that I can call a home,
Delights not me;—another way
My treasures, pleasures, wishes lay.
Where man would seem in vain to toil,
I see, where’er I turn my eyes,
Luxuriant pasture, trees, and soil.
Uncharmed I see:—another way
My fondest hopes and wishes lay.
Enough to form a settled plan,
To feed my infant train and thee
And fill the rank and style of man:
I’d cheerful be the livelong day;
Since all my wishes point that way.
Of birchen bark, procured with care,
Designed to shield the aged head
Which British mercy placed there—
’Tis too, too much: I cannot stay,
But turn with streaming eyes away.
Six pretty prattlers like your own,
Exposed to every wind that blew,
Condemned in such a hut to moan.
Could this be borne, Cordelia, say?
Contented in your cottage stay.
The mind resolved may happy be;
And may with toil and solitude,
Live independent and be free.
So the lone hermit yields to slow decay:
Unfriended lives—unheeded glides away.
But moot indifference which way flows the stream;
Resigned to penury, its cares and pains;
And hope has left you like a painted dream;
Then here, Cordelia, bend your pensive way,
And close the evening of Life’s wretched day.