A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE.
II thoughtto hold thy memory as the seaHolds in its heart a pale reflected moon,Lost when the sunny radiance of noonDissolves the moonlight’s tender mystery.Lo! thou art not her semblance in the seas,But the fair moon herself, that near or far,Orbed high in heaven as a shining starOr hid from sight at love’s antipodes;—Still sways the waters with love’s restless tides;Not by her own will; no coquette is she,—The lovely moon to whom I liken thee;—For high above our earthly air she glides,Unconscious as the waves that rise to greetHer coming, of the mystery of God’s lawCompelling her those far-off waves to drawForever towards her whom they never meet.
II thoughtto hold thy memory as the seaHolds in its heart a pale reflected moon,Lost when the sunny radiance of noonDissolves the moonlight’s tender mystery.Lo! thou art not her semblance in the seas,But the fair moon herself, that near or far,Orbed high in heaven as a shining starOr hid from sight at love’s antipodes;—Still sways the waters with love’s restless tides;Not by her own will; no coquette is she,—The lovely moon to whom I liken thee;—For high above our earthly air she glides,Unconscious as the waves that rise to greetHer coming, of the mystery of God’s lawCompelling her those far-off waves to drawForever towards her whom they never meet.
II thoughtto hold thy memory as the seaHolds in its heart a pale reflected moon,Lost when the sunny radiance of noonDissolves the moonlight’s tender mystery.
I
I thoughtto hold thy memory as the sea
Holds in its heart a pale reflected moon,
Lost when the sunny radiance of noon
Dissolves the moonlight’s tender mystery.
Lo! thou art not her semblance in the seas,But the fair moon herself, that near or far,Orbed high in heaven as a shining starOr hid from sight at love’s antipodes;—
Lo! thou art not her semblance in the seas,
But the fair moon herself, that near or far,
Orbed high in heaven as a shining star
Or hid from sight at love’s antipodes;—
Still sways the waters with love’s restless tides;Not by her own will; no coquette is she,—The lovely moon to whom I liken thee;—For high above our earthly air she glides,
Still sways the waters with love’s restless tides;
Not by her own will; no coquette is she,—
The lovely moon to whom I liken thee;—
For high above our earthly air she glides,
Unconscious as the waves that rise to greetHer coming, of the mystery of God’s lawCompelling her those far-off waves to drawForever towards her whom they never meet.
Unconscious as the waves that rise to greet
Her coming, of the mystery of God’s law
Compelling her those far-off waves to draw
Forever towards her whom they never meet.