Arthur Hugh Clough.
AS ships, becalmd at eve, that lay
With canvas drooping, side by side,
Two towers of sail at
dawn of day
Are scarce, long leagues apart, descried;
When fell the night, upsprung the breeze,
And all the darkling hours they plied,
but each the self-same seas
By each was cleaving, side by side:
Een so but why the tale reveal
Of those, whom year by year unchanged,
joind anew to feel,
Astounded, soul from soul estranged?
At dead of night their sails were filld,
And onward each rejoicing steerd
Ah, neither blame,
for neither willd,
Or wist, what first with dawn appeard!
To veer, how vain! On, onward strain,
Brave barks! In light, in darkness too,
Thro winds and
tides one compass guides,
To that, and your own selves, be true.
But O blithe breeze! and O great seas,
Though neer, that earliest parting past,
On your wide
plain they join again,
Together lead them home at last.
One port, methought, alike they sought,
One purpose hold whereer they fare,
breeze, O rushing seas,
At last, at last, unite them there!
SAY not the struggle naught availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints
not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke conceald,
chase een now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through
creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light;
In front the sun
climbs slow, how slowly!
But westward, look, the land is bright!