And when at last upon the baffling plain
We thought it scattered like a ravelled skein,--
Lo, tranquil, free,
Its longed-for home, the wide unfathomable sea!


X

Thy names are like sweet flowers that grow
Within a garden where I go,
Sometimes at dawn, to see each one
Life its head proudly in the sun;
Sometimes at night,
When only by the fragrant air,
I know them there.
And none are grieved or think I slight
Their worth, if closest to my breast,
This one I take which holds within its own
Each single fragrance of the rest,--
My friend, my friend!
And as I loved it first alone,
So shall I love it to the end,
For none were half so dear were it not best.


XI

My every purpose fashioned by some thought of thee,
Though as a feather's weight that shapes the arrow's flight it be;
No single joy complete in which thou hast no fee,