Poems (Jackson)/Tides

by Helen Hunt Jackson

SHOWBREAD.

AST imaged pillars, wrought of fir and palm,
Past bright pomegranates, swinging on their chain,
And bars of Tyrian cedar, overlain
With gold, and past the molten sea whose calm
Waves drink the offerings of spice and balm,
Lit by the seven sacred lamps whose rain
Of fragrant fire the almond bowls detain,
Past clear-eyed cherubim, without alarm,
And into shadow of the mercy-seat
We pressed.
We pressed.No priest with onyx-stones to meet
Us there! Alone our hunger, face to face
With God, ate of the showbread, sacred, sweet;
And listening, heard these words of heavenly grace,—
"One greater than the temple fills this place."

TIDES.

PATIENT shore, that canst not go to meet
Thy love, the restless sea, how comfortest
Thou all thy loneliness? Art thou at rest,
When loosing his strong arms from round thy feet,
He turns away? Know'st thou, however sweet
That other shore may be, that to thy breast
He must return? And when in sterner test
He folds thee to a heart which does not beat,
Wraps thee in ice, and gives no smile, no kiss,
To break long wintry days, still dost thou miss
Naught from thy trust? Still wait, unfaltering,
The higher, warmer waves which leap in spring?
O sweet, wise shore, to be so satisfied!
O heart, learn from the shore! Love has a tide!