In the Offing
IN THE OFFING
The Ship of the Spring in the offing at last!
Oh, rude blew the hindering gales,
But perfumes entrancing, the danger o'erpast,
Are wafted afar, from her sails!
The bearer of treasure more fragrant than myrrh—
More precious than jewels of Inde,
The stars in their courses keep watch over her,
The gods for her temper the wind.
She comes as a maid whom life's vision elates,
Out-spreading her draperies white;
She comes as a bride whom a lover awaits
With proud and impatient delight.
A queen, as she glides to the goal of her dreams
With movement majestic and slow,
So still is her beauty, half-conscious she seems,—
But the heart in her breast is aglow;
For she hears the far murmur of myriad things
That shall at her coming have birth.
O sails in the offing! ye are as the wings
Of angels that bring her to Earth!
Florence Earle Coates.