Where the wild waste of waters toss and seethe,
And maddened whitecaps dash against the cliffs,
And the fierce waves round rocky headlands wreathe
Their foamy flowers and wreckage heaves and drifts—
She stands at gaze above the angry tide,
Beholding from her crag the laboring bark,
And prays her own may safely reach her side,
As the ship staggers shoreward through the dark.
On life's wide threshold, with meek, gentle eyes,
A maiden stands and looks with half affright
Upon the world's mad ways, the threatening skies,
And the long shadows that forecast the night;
And wonders in her tender heart if he,
Her own true love, will safely win her side,
Bringing to her the treasure that shall be
The crown and glory of his waiting bride.
