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!”