 | Pocahontas, and other poems |  |
209
PARTING.
Not of the boisterous wave,
Not of the tempest's power,
Not of the rent and cleaving bark,
Speak at this sacred hour.
Not of the tempest's power,
Not of the rent and cleaving bark,
Speak at this sacred hour.
God of the trusting soul!
God of the traveller, hear!
And from our parting cup of love
Wring out these dregs of fear.
God of the traveller, hear!
And from our parting cup of love
Wring out these dregs of fear.
Art thou a God at home,
Where the bright fireside smiles,
And not abroad, upon the deep,
Mid danger's deadliest wiles?
Where the bright fireside smiles,
And not abroad, upon the deep,
Mid danger's deadliest wiles?
What though the eyes so dear
To distant regions turn,
Their tender language in our hearts
Like vestal flame shall burn.
To distant regions turn,
Their tender language in our hearts
Like vestal flame shall burn.
What though the voice beloved
Respond not to our pain,
We'll shut its music in the soul
Until we meet again.
Respond not to our pain,
We'll shut its music in the soul
Until we meet again.
210
Farewell! we're travellers all,
With one bless'd goal in view,
One rest, one everlasting home,
Sweet friend, a sweet adieu!
With one bless'd goal in view,
One rest, one everlasting home,
Sweet friend, a sweet adieu!
| Pocahontas, and other poems | |