TO ARCITE AT THE WARS.
1759.
A THOUSAND leagues of wind-blown space,
A thousand leagues of sea,
Half of the great earth’s hiding face
Divides mine eyes from thee;
The world is strong, the waves are wide,
But my good-will is stronger still,
My love, than wind or tide.
These sentinels which Fate has set
To bar and hold me here
I make my errand-men, to get
A message to thine ear.
The winds shall waft, the waters bear,
And spite of seas I, when I please,
Can reach thee everywhere.
Prayers are like birds to find the way;
Thoughts have a swifter flight;
And mine stream forth to thee all day,
Like silent angels at thy side
They stand unseen, they bend and lean,
They bless and warn and guide.
There is no near, there is no far,
There is no loss or change,
To love which, like a fixèd star,
Abideth in one range,
And shines, and shines, with quenchless eyes,
And sends long rays in many ways
To lighten distant skies.
Where sight is not, faith brighter burns;
So faithfully I wait,
Secure that loyal loving earns
Its guerdon soon or late,—
Secure, though lacking word or sign,
That thy true thought keeps as it ought
Tryst with each thought of mine.