Apprehension
Even such to thee am I; but thou to me
As the embracing shore to the sobbing sea,
Even as the sea itself to the stone-tossed rill.
But who, but who shall give such rest to thee ?
The deep mid-ocean waves perpetually
Call to the land, and call unanswered still.
iii.
As dreams the fasting nun of Paradise,
And finds her gnawing hunger pass away
In thinking of the happy bridal day
That soon shall dawn upon her watching eyes;
So, dreaming of your love, do I despise
Harshness or death of friends, doubt, slow decay,
Madness,—all dreads that fills me with dismay
And creep about me oft with fell surmise.
For you are true, and all I hoped you are,
O perfect answer to my calling heart!
And very sweet my life is, having thee.
Yet must I dread the dim end shrouded far;
Yet must I dream: should once the good planks start,
How bottomless yawns beneath the boiling sea!
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