BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

SKILLED mariner, and counted sane, and wise,
That was a curious thing which chanced to me,
So good a sailor, on so fair a sea.
With favoring winds, and blue, unshadowed skies,
Led by the faithful beacon of Love's Eyes
Past reef and shoal, my life-boat bounded free,
And fearless of all dangers that might be
Under calm waves where many a sunk rock lies.
A golden dawn; yet suddenly my bark
Strained at the sails, as in a cyclone's blast,
And battled with an unseen current's force.
For we had entered, when the night was dark,
That old tempestuous Gulf Stream of the Past.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But for Love's Eyes, I had not kept the course.