A Foreboding

I do not dread an alter'd heart,
Or that long line of land or sea
Should separate my love from me,
I dread that drifting slow apart —
All unresisted, unrestrain'd —
Which comes to some when they have gain'd
The dear endeavor of their soul.

As two light skiffs that sail'd together,
Through days and nights of tranquil weather,
Adown some inland stream, might be
Drifted asunder, each from each;
When, floating with the tide, they reach
The hop'd-for end, the promis'd goal,
The sudden glory of the sea.