Wind And Tide.
I stood by the broad, deep river,
The tide flowed firm to its mouth;
I saw the sweet wind quiver,
As it rose in the golden south.
On the river's bosom it fluttered,
And kissed and caressed all day,
And joys of the south it muttered:
But the tide kept its northern way.
Tender and chaste was its suing,
Till the face of the river-bride
Rippled and gleamed in the wooing:
But northward flowed the tide.
And so, thought I, God's graces
Woo our souls the livelong day,
Which brighten and smile in their faces:
Sin bears us another way.