I heard the dip of golden oars;
Twelve angels stranded in a boat;
We sailed away for other shores;
Though but an hour we were afloat,
We harbored under heavenly doors.
O, Blanche, if I had run my race,
And if I wore my winding sheet,
And mourners went about the place,
Would you so much as cross the street,
To kiss in death my white, cold face?
XIII.
A CHANCE FOR GAIN.
I met him in the busy mart;
His eyes are large, his lips are firm,
And on his temples, care or sin
Has left its claw prints hardened in;
His step is nervous and infirm;
I wondered if he had a heart.
He blandly smiled and took my hand.
He owed me such a debt, he thought,
He felt he never could repay;
Yet should I call on him that day,
He'd hand me what the papers brought,
For which I once had made demand.
Then added, turning grave from gay;
"But you must promise, if I give,
Your lover's office to resign,
And stand no more 'twixt me and mine."
His words were water in a sieve.
I turned my back and strode away.
XIV.
THE LIGHT-HOUSE.
At twilight, past the fountain,
I wandered in the park,
And saw a closed white lily
Sway on the liquid dark;
And a fire-fly, perched upon it,
Shone out its fitful spark.
I fancied it a light-house
Mooned on a sky-like sea,
To warn the fearless sailors
Of lurking treachery—
Of unseen reefs and shallows
That starved for wrecks to be.
O Blanche, O love that spurns me,
'Tis but a cheat thou art.
I would some friendly light-house
Had warned me to depart
From the secret reefs and shallows
That hide about your heart.