PROMISING.

Once, a new world, the sunswart marinere,

Columbus, promised, and was sore withstood,

Ungraced, unhelped, unheard for many a year;

But let at last to make his promise good.

Promised and promising I go, most dear,

To better my dull heart with love's sweet feud,

My life with its most reverent hope and fear,

And my religion, with fair gratitude.

O we must part; the stars for me contend,

And all the winds that blow on all the seas.

Through wonderful waste places I must wend,

And with a promise my sad soul appease.

Promise then, promise much of far-off bliss;

But — ah, for present joy, give me one kiss.