Scarce has the sun, in rosy-jewelled might,
Sunk, when thy double gems with sweet surprise
Spring from the dusky waters, and the eyes
Of mariners bless thee all the weary night.
Oh, never stars in heaven with more delight
Were hailed, than these wave-risen! Lo, outflies
A roseate gleam and into darkness dies,
Then, thro’ the tempest, flashes into white.
So, heart, must thou, in dangerous waters set,
Flash from the lamp of truth its many hues,
With pause alternate, thro’ the trembling dark—
Thy light, such light as care-worn faces, wet
With sad salt water, cannot fail but choose
To steer by, when for home they sail their bark.
(Sonnets Round the Coast, p. 87)