I live on hope and that I think do all Who come into this world.
When first we met we did not guess That Love would prove so hard a master.
My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night.
Beauty, the eternal Spouse of the Wisdom of God and Angel of his Presence thru' all creation.
I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.
Were I a cloud I'd gather My skirts up in the air, And fly well know whither, And rest I well know where.
I love all beauteous things, I seek and adore them God hath no better praise, And man in his hasty days Is honored for them.
So sweet love seemed that April morn. When first we kissed beside the thorn, So strangely sweet, it was not strange We thought that love could never change.
Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding,
Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West,
That fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding,
Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest?
Ah! soon, when Winter has all our vales opprest,
When skies are cold and misty, and hail is hurling,
Wilt thoù glìde on the blue Pacific, or rest
In a summer haven asleep, thy white sails furling.
I there before thee, in the country that well thou knowest,
Already arrived am inhaling the odorous air:
I watch thee enter unerringly where thou goest,
And anchor queen of the strange shipping there,
Thy sails for awnings spread, thy masts bare:
Nor is aught from the foaming reef to the snow-capp'd grandest
Peak, that is over the feathery palms, more fair
Than thou, so upright, so stately and still thou standest.
And yet, O splendid ship, unhail'd and nameless,
I know not if, aiming a fancy, I rightly divine
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