*T Henry, A friend had wrote his wife a poetical invitation (settle)
*U Poem http://www.iment.com/maida/familytree/henry/writing/poetry/settle.htm
*U Grammar http://www.iment.com/maida/familytree/henry/xmasresearch/grammarhenry.htm#settle
*U Search http://www.iment.com/maida/familytree/henry/xmasresearch/searchablehenryspoems.htm#settle
*C MSS p25, Unpublished


YES, yes my swain, thy faithful wife's prepar'd
To hie to that dear cot thy hands have rear'd.
Tho there the way-worn pilgrim can't behold
The Cornich blazing with the fretted gold;
Altho no damask curtain gives the day
Its crimson tint, and sheds the purple ray;
Altho no surly porter stands in state
To guard the sumptuous and unsocial gate;
Tho thousand and ten thousand trivial things
Which Lux'ry and her sister Folly brings,
Be wanting there - yet there! Yet there I'll find
That richest furniture! A quiet mind.
With my own swain, unsever'd from my side,
Adown the stream of life I'll joyous glide.
Tho the brown horrors of the nodding wood --
Or -- brilliant landscapes dance upon the flood;
Thro each vicissitude I'll boldly steer,
Whilst Thou my love, my life, my all, art near.
- Yes yes, my swain thy faithful wife will go,
With Thee thro summers heat, or winter's snow:
Where'er high Heav'n and you point out the way
Nor wish, nor ask, a moment's fond delay.
Clung to thy arm, with brighter scenes in view
I'll catch thy flame & feel thy raptures too!
- To that dear cot thy hands have rear'd I'll hie,
Live with my swain & with my swain will die.