Alone, yet not alone, the heart doth brood
With a sad fondness o'er its hidden grief;
Broods with a miiser's joy, wherein relief
Ccmes with a semblance of its own quaint mood.
How many hearts this point of life have passed!
And some a train of light behind have cast,
Tc show us what hath been, and what may be;
That thus have suffered all the wise and good,
Thus wept and prayed, thus struggled, and were free.
So cloth the pilot, trackless through the deep,
Unswerving by the stars his reckoning keep,
He treads a highway not untried before,
And thence he courage gains, and joy doth reap,
Unfaltering lays his course, and leaves behind the shore.
