Poems (Procter)/Home at Last

by Adelaide Anne Procter

HOME AT LAST.

HILD, do not fear;
We shall reach our home to-night,
 For the sky is clear,
  And the winters bright;
And the breezes have scarcely strength
 To unfold that little cloud,
   That like a shroud
Spreads out its fleecy length;
   Then have no fear,
As we cleave our silver way
   Through the waters clear.

   Fear not, my child!
Though the waves are white and high,
 And the storm blows wild
   Through the gloomy sky;
On the edge of the western sea,
 See that line of golden light,
   Is the haven bright
Where home is awaiting thee
   Where, this peril past,
We shall rest from our stormy voyage
   In peace at last.

   Be not afraid;
But give me thy hand, and see
 How the waves have made
   A cradle for thee.
Night is come, dear, and we shall rest;
 So turn from the angry skies,
   And close thine eyes,
And lay thy head on my breast:
   Child, do not weep;
In the calm, cold, purple depths
   There we shall sleep.