THE ship was waiting in the bay, The wind's voice whispered soft and low: I said:—'O maiden, shall I stay, Or shall I go?' Her cheek grew pale: as with a wand The sunset blessed her soft brown hair: She crushed a flower within her hand: O, she was fair! Silent she stood: the trellised rose Just touched and trembled on her breast: O petal, kissed by evening glows, The riddle's guessed! The silent lips, the paling cheek, The blush rose quivering on her breast— 'O little maiden, do not speak, I know the rest! 'But, O fair maiden, storms will blow And rough Heaven vex the darkling way; O little maiden, shall I go, Or shall I stay? 'Life's duteous venture lies afar O'er the long rolling of the wave: Wilt stay where level pathways are? Girl, art thou brave?' Then, beauteous as the sunset glow— O, but her face was fair to see!— She whispered:—"Do not fear to go: I go with thee! "O, yes! let tempests mutter loud Or night fall dark upon the sea, A maiden's will, by fear un-bowed, Is brave @3in thee!@1" Two hearts kneel in the sea-side church, A little hand is clasped in mine; On a fair finger, like a torch, Troth's symbols shine. Our ship lies waiting in the bay: A fair wind whispers soft and low: The jocund bells chime out to-day As we two go. |