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“Yet ’tis a thought consoling,
That, till our latest breath,
We loved in life, and shall not be
Divided in our death.

“Alas, for those that wait us
On their couch of dreams at home,
The morn will hear the funeral-cry
Around their daughter’s tomb.


“They hoped” (’twas a strange moment
In Dutch to quote Shakespeare)
“Thy bride-bed to have decked, sweet maid,
And not have strewed thy bier.”

But sweetly-voiced and smiling,
The trusting maiden said,
“Breathed not thy lips the vow to-day,
To-morrow we will wed?

“And I, who have known thy truth
Through years of joy and sorrow,
Can I believe the fickle winds?
No! we shall wed to-morrow!”

The tempest heard and paused—
The wild sea gentler moved—
They felt the power of woman’s faith
In the word of him she loved.