THE BRIDE

A ship at sea; a port to anchor in;

Not far a starry light upon the shore.

The sheeted lightning, like a golden door,

Swings to and fro to let earth-angels in.

Most bravely has she sailed o'er every sea,

Withstood the storm-rack, spurned the sullen reef;

Cherished her strength; and held her guerdon fief

To him who saith, “My ship comes back to me!

Behold, I sent her forth a stately thing,

To be my messenger to farthest lands,

To Fortunate Isles, and where the silver sands

Girdle a summer sea; that she might bring

My bride, who wist not that I loved her so —

This is no bitter day for me, I trow!”