 | The Triumph of Love |  |
VI
Our summons came: and o'er the darkling seas,From the low shore-line of that shadowy land,
Our bark sped on before the fateful breeze
Towards the far lights of earth's predestined strand.
O lost and found! My life! My love! confess,
Ere yet the winds our canvas had unfurled,
What angel, stooping to a last caress,
Gave thee that potion to bewitch the world?
A cruel gift! With heedless lips athirst
I drank, and through my veins the poison stole:
And thence through life deep in my heart I nursed
Prophetic passion for thy kindred soul;—
Blind to my doom—for on earth's misty shore
Dies all remembrance of what passed before.
| The Triumph of Love | |