His throat-tie stirred by the idle wind,
Till a vision came to her burdened mind
Of the cruel world, and its storms to come
Ere the sailor-boy should be safe at home
From the wild Charybdis all unseen,
Where the bright “to be" is the dim “has been."
Softly, unfelt, on his forehead fair
There fell the dew of the stranger’s prayer –
A lowly gift that he might not see
Till he anchors safe in Eternity.
But evermore, as the waves come in
From the sea of Life with a freight of sin,
An unseen Pilot shall be his guide
Safe through the surge of the coming tide.
Some strange constraint ever keep him back
When a danger crouches along the track;
Some star shine out over Error’s brink,
When it-only needs he should see, to think;
Some linger point from an angel hand,
Where roads divide, toward the better land;
Nor ever know, till he meets her there,
How much he owes to the stranger's prayer.
A WORD TO THE OLD GARRET.
YOU insensible garret !
I thought I should see
You had changed just a little,
As well as poor me.