To N. V. De G. S.

THE UNFATHOMABLE sea, and time, and tears,  
The deeds of heroes and the crimes of kings  
Dispart us; and the river of events  
Has, for an age of years, to east and west  
More widely borne our cradles. Thou to me  
Art foreign, as when seamen at the dawn  
Descry a land far off and know not which.  
So I approach uncertain; so I cruise  
Round thy mysterious islet, and behold  
Surf and great mountains and loud river-bars,  
And from the shore hear inland voices call.  
Strange is the seaman’s heart; he hopes, he fears;  
Draws closer and sweeps wider from that coast;  
Last, his rent sail refits, and to the deep  
His shattered prow uncomforted puts back.  
Yet as he goes he ponders at the helm  
Of that bright island; where he feared to touch,  
His spirit readventures; and for years,  
Where by his wife he slumbers safe at home,  
Thoughts of that land revisit him; he sees  
The eternal mountains beckon, and awakes  
Yearning for that far home that might have been.