When the heart speaks, the lips are still,
And if I cannot say farewell,
’Tis that a thousand yearnings thrill
My heart, and hold my lips in spell.
Let thine own heart the thoughts express
My lips would speak. Yet why repine?
I knew thee, and, at least, can bless
Thy life, though sundered far from mine.
THE TIDE.
Twice in the day a mighty tide there rolls
Throughout our city streets,
A limitless, deep sea of human souls,
Each wave, a heart that beats.
Ah, me! what various ships are drifting there,
Upon that living sea;
What guile and innocence, what joy, what care,
What utter misery!
At morn it ebbs far from home’s golden shore
Into the sea of life,
Where its dark billows meet and foam and roar
In never-ending strife.
At night it flows, far from the mart’s turmoil,
Backward upon its way,
Where wives and children bring sweet rest from toil,
Till dawns another day.
From year to year ’tis thus these waters move,
Life’s duties to fulfill;
Obedient to the silvery moon of love,
That rules them at its will.