"The drooping sea-weed hears, in night abyssed,
Far and more far the wave's receding shocks,
Nor doubts, for all the darkness and the mist,
That the pale shepherdess will keep her tryst,
And shoreward lead again her foam-fleeced flocks.
"For the same wave that rims the Carib shore
With momentary brede of pearl and gold,
Goes hurrying thence to gladden with its roar
Lorn weeds bound fast on rocks of Labrador,
By love divine on one sweet errand rolled.
"And though Thy healing waters far withdraw,
I too can wait, and feed on hope of Thee
And of the clear recurrence of Thy law,
Sure that the parting grace my morning saw
Abides its time to come in search of me."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]