Let such pure hate still underprop
Our love, that we may be
Each other's conscience.
And have our sympathy
Mainly from thence.
We'll one another treat like gods,
And all the faith we have
In virtue and in truth, bestow
On either, and suspicion leave
To gods below.
Two solitary stars, -
Unmeasured systems far
Between us roll,
But by our conscious light we are
Determined to one pole.
What need confound the sphere, -
Love can afford to wait,
For it no hour's too late
That witnesseth one duty's end,
Or to another doth beginning lend.
It will subserve no use,
More than the tints of flowers,
Only the independent guest
Frequents its bowers,
Inherits its bequest.
No speech though kind has it,
But kinder silence doles
Unto its mates,
By night consoles,
By day congratulates.
What saith the tongue to tongue?
What heareth ear of ear?
By the decrees of fate
From year to year,
Does it communicate.
Pathless the gulf of feeling yawns, -
No trivial bridge of words,
Or arch of boldest span,
Can leap the moat that girds
The sincere man.
No show of bolts and bars
Can keep the foeman out,
Or 'scape his secret mine
Who entered with the doubt
That drew the line.
No warder at the gate
Can let the friendly in,
But, like the sun, o'er all
He will the castle win,
And shine along the wall.
There's nothing in the world I know
That can escape from love,
For every depth it goes below,
And every height above.
It waits as waits the sky,
Until the clouds go by,
Yet shines serenely on
With an eternal day,
Alike when they are gone,
And when they stay.
Implacable is Love, -
Foes may be bought or teased
From their hostile intent,
But he goes unappeased
Who is on kindness bent.
Having rowed five or six miles above Amoskeag before sunset, and
reached a pleasant part of the river, one of us landed to look
for a farm-house, where we might replenish our stores, while the
other remained cruising about the stream, and exploring the
opposite shores to find a suitable harbor for the night. In the
mean while the canal-boats began to come round a point in our
rear, poling their way along close to the shore, the breeze
having quite died away. This time there was no offer of
assistance, but one of the boatmen only called out to say, as the
truest revenge for having been the losers in the race, that he
had seen a wood-duck, which we had scared up, sitting on a tall
white-pine, half a mile down stream; and he repeated the
assertion several times, and seemed really chagrined at the
apparent suspicion with which this information was received. But
there sat the summer duck still, undisturbed by us.
By and by the other voyageur returned from his inland expedition,
bringing one of the natives with him, a little flaxen-headed boy,
with some tradition, or small edition, of Robinson Crusoe in his
head, who had been charmed by the account of our adventures, and
asked his father's leave to join us.
