WHITHER?
Whither, O shining sails that glide
All rosy bright with morning's kiss,
Turning the clinging waves aside
To reach some fairer world than this?
All rosy bright with morning's kiss,
Turning the clinging waves aside
To reach some fairer world than this?
Whither, O shadowy sails that turn
Beyond the sunset cold and dim,
To where the stars of evening burn
Above the far horizon's rim?
Beyond the sunset cold and dim,
To where the stars of evening burn
Above the far horizon's rim?
Flushed with the eager dawning light,
Pale with the evening's mystic pall,
They fade before our longing sight,
And who shall say what chance may fall.
Pale with the evening's mystic pall,
They fade before our longing sight,
And who shall say what chance may fall.
Some turn unknown of law or fate,
May hide our farthest ken above,—
The seeming spell of some dark hate,
Or the all-guiding power of love.
May hide our farthest ken above,—
The seeming spell of some dark hate,
Or the all-guiding power of love.
