70
A TRYST.
Brave men, sweet women, little children bright,
For all these she made room,
And with her freight of beauty and delight
She went to meet her doom.
For all these she made room,
And with her freight of beauty and delight
She went to meet her doom.
Storms buffeted the iceberg, spray was swept
Across its loftiest height;
Guided alike by storm and calm, it kept
Its fatal path aright.
Across its loftiest height;
Guided alike by storm and calm, it kept
Its fatal path aright.
Then warmer waves gnawed at its crumbling base,
As if in piteous plea;
The ardent sun sent slow tears down its face,
Soft flowing to the sea.
As if in piteous plea;
The ardent sun sent slow tears down its face,
Soft flowing to the sea.
Dawn kissed it with her tender rose tints, Eve
Bathed it in violet,
The wistful color o'er it seemed to grieve
With a divine regret.
Bathed it in violet,
The wistful color o'er it seemed to grieve
With a divine regret.
Whether Day clad its clefts in rainbows dim
And shadowy as a dream,
Or Night through lonely spaces saw it swim
White in the moonlight's gleam,
And shadowy as a dream,
Or Night through lonely spaces saw it swim
White in the moonlight's gleam,
