TIDES

by: Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)

patient shore, thou 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!

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