 | The Baroness of New York |  |
166
XIV.
Two strange ships on an unknown sea,
That counter sail, to God knows where,
May meet, but pass not instantly.
The very fact of being there
Proves them of common lot, a life
In battled elements and strife;
And they will break their loneliness,
And bow white sails across the sea,
Though they should prove, at last, to be
But common in their dark distress.
Two ships oft met on this lone main;
The Baroness, Sir Francis Jain.
That counter sail, to God knows where,
May meet, but pass not instantly.
The very fact of being there
Proves them of common lot, a life
In battled elements and strife;
And they will break their loneliness,
And bow white sails across the sea,
Though they should prove, at last, to be
But common in their dark distress.
Two ships oft met on this lone main;
The Baroness, Sir Francis Jain.
How these digressions do disgust
And weary you! You much mistrust
The man has little fruit to show
Who plucks wild flowers as you go,
And loiters at his garden gate,
And seems to halt and hesitate
To lead right up the path to where
His fruits hang ripest and most fair.
We will return, and not again
Depart the path. Perhaps with pain
I see the dull conclusion. I
Would dally by the way, would lie
Forever on the common grass,
And let the vulgar, panting pass.
And weary you! You much mistrust
The man has little fruit to show
Who plucks wild flowers as you go,
And loiters at his garden gate,
And seems to halt and hesitate
To lead right up the path to where
His fruits hang ripest and most fair.
167
Depart the path. Perhaps with pain
I see the dull conclusion. I
Would dally by the way, would lie
Forever on the common grass,
And let the vulgar, panting pass.
Nay, haste not like the hired slave;
Take life's good as you go, my friend.
Haste not, haste not. Behold! the end
Of each man's road is in a grave.
Take life's good as you go, my friend.
Haste not, haste not. Behold! the end
Of each man's road is in a grave.
| The Baroness of New York | |