Page:Poems Cook.djvu/190

She stood on the land as the bark on the main,
 As placid in beauty, as lovely in form;
The maiden had dreamt not of sadness or pain,
 The vessel had never been dash'd by the storm.

Where are they now—the brave ship and fair girl?
 Gaze on the fragments that scatter the shore:
The tempest is raging—the mad billows curl,
 And the glorious bark shall be look'd on no more.

And the maiden so fair—oh! what change has come there!
 She is wandering still, and she wanders alone;
But her cheek has grown white, and her eye lost its light,
 And the dove from her breast, with its olive, has flown.

She has loved, but "not wisely,"—she walks to the grave;
 Unwept and unmark'd shall her spirit depart;
There's a record of ships that go down in the wave,
 But no whisper to tell of the wreck of a heart!

 

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THE FUTURE

It was good, it was kind, in the Wise One above,
 To fling Destiny's veil o'er the face of our years;
That we dread not the blow that shall strike at our love,
 And expect not the beams that shall dry up our tears.

Did we know that the voices, now gentle and bland,
 Will forego the fond word and the whispering tone;
Did we know that the cager and warm-pressing hand
 Will be joyfully forward in "casting the stone:"

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