When on thy bosom I recline,
Enraptur'd still to call thee mine,
To call thee mine for life,
I glory in the sacred ties,
Which modern wits and fools despise,
Of Husband and of Wife.
One mutual flame inspires our bliss;
The tender look, the melting kiss,
Even years have not destroyed;
Some sweet sensation, ever new,
Springs up and proves the maxim true,
That love can ne'er be cloy'd.
Have I a wish?--'tis all for thee,
Hast thou a wish?--'tis all for me,
So soft our moments move,
That angels look with ardent gaze,
Well pleas'd to see our happy days,
And bid us live--and love.
If cares arise--and cares will come--
Thy bosom is my softest home,
I'll lull me there to rest;
And is there aught disturbs my fair?
I'll bid her sigh out every care,
And lose it in my breast.
Have I a wish?--'tis all her own;
All hers and mine are roll'd in one--
Our hearts are so entwined,
That, like the ivy round the tree,
Bound up in closest amity,
'Tis death to be disjoined.