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 Tides by Helen Hunt Jackson 
						O patient shore, thou canst not go to meetThy 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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