To His Wife | Poem | James Clerk Maxwell

(To HIS WIFE.)

1858.

OFT in the night, from this lone room

I long to fly o'er land and sea,

To pierce the dark, dividing gloom,

 And join myself to thee.

 And thou to me wouldst gladly fly,

I know thee well, my own true wife !

 We feel, that when we live not nigh,

We lose the crown of life.

 Yet soon I hope, at dead of night,

To meet where all is strange beside,

 And mid the train's resounding flight

To have thee by my side.

 Then shall I feel that thou art near,

Joined hand to hand and soul to soul ;

 Short will that happy night appear,

As through the dark we roll.

 Then shall the secret of the will,

 That dares not enter into bliss ;

That longs for love, yet lingers still,

 Be solved in one long kiss.

 I, drinking deep of thy rich love,

 Thou feeling all the strength of mine,

 Our souls will rise in faith above

The cares which make us pine.

 Till I give thee, thou giving me,

As that which either loves the best,

 To Him that loved us both, that He

May take us to His rest.

 Wandering and weak are all our prayers,

And fleeting half the gifts we crave ;

 Love only, cleansed from sins and cares,

Shall live beyond the grave.

 Strengthen our love, Lord, that we

May in Thine own great love believe

 And, opening all our soul to Thee,

May Thy free gift receive.

 All powers of mind, all force of will,

May lie in dust when we are dead,

 But love is ours, and shall be still,

When earth and seas are fled.

Sourced from The life of James Clerk Maxwell : with a selection from his correspondence and occasional writings and a sketch of his contributions to science by Campbell, Lewis (1830-1908) via archive.org

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