Electronic Books

"Thou, thou, that art
My port, my refuge, and my goal,
I have no chart,
No compass but a heart
Trembling t'ward thee and to no other pole.
"My star! Adrift
On seas that well-nigh overwhelm,
Still when they lift
I strain toward the rift,
And steer, and hold my courage to the helm.
"With ivory comb,
Daylong thou dalliest dreaming where
The rainbow foam
Enisles thy murmuring home:
Home too for me, though I behold it ne'er!
"Yet when the bird
Is tired, and each little wave,
Aloft is heard
A call, reminds thee gird
Thy robe and climb to where the summits rave:
"Yea, to the white
Lone sea-mark shaken on the verge--
'What of the night?'
Ah, climb--ah, lift the light!
Ah, lamp thy lover labouring in the surge!
"Fray'd rope, burst sail,
Drench'd wing, as moth toward the spark--
I fetch, I fail,
Glad only that the gale
Breaks not my faith upon the brutal dark.


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