80
PARTING.
—Forth into the black night
Ran the black boat. A shudder and a snort,
A flash, and forth it ran. Went all my hope with it.
A moment, and a sudden foolish joy
O'erswept me that the black boat should not go—
A moment while it hung upon its poise
And seemed it could not start; the sleepy waters
Clogged so its fans (how did I love those waters!)
Which with a strong will soon—alas!—
Grinding their clog to smoke, made opposition
Into assistance. Forth it went, my hope with it.
Forth ran the black boat into the black blank;
But still on board there burned a living light:
My hope burned with it. For a time, too short,
It kept the dark at bay; then more and more
That cheery, warm, recognisable spot
Narrowed, each breathless moment more and more,
Till so the vast o'ercrept it, that it now
Was but a shapeless patch on the black plane—
Now but a star that night, respecting, hates—
