Каролина Фрай (Уилсон) (Caroline Fry (Wilson))

To a Friend

Behold you the beam
   On yonder tide,
As it gently plays
   On the vessel's side?
The white sails are spread,
   And the anchor heaves,
And the mariner looks
   Towards the home he leaves.

Now swiftly she flies
   Through the evening gale,
And the bright moon-beam
   Is on her sail;

Like some tall spectre,
   Unstable and light,
She silently steals
   Through the shadows of night.

And they are gone
   To some distant sphere;
But the bright moon-beam
   Will still be there,
To light their steps
   On a foreign shore,
While it shines on the home
   They must see no more.

So the self-same beam
   Of celestial light
Shall gild the shades
   Of our distant night;

And our spirits shall meet,
   When forbidden here,
Above yon pale moon's
   Silvery sphere.

There our hearts, asunder
   So harshly riven,
Shall unite their prayers
   Ere they reach to heaven;
And a beam from mercy's
   Exhaustless store
Be bright on us both
   When we meet no more.

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