Henry Theodore Tuckerman (1813–1871)

ALL hearts are not disloyal; let thy trust

Be deep and clear and all-confiding still;

For though Love’s fruit turn on the lips to dust,

She ne’er betrays her child to lasting ill:

Through leagues of desert must the pilgrim go

Ere on his gaze the holy turrets rise;

Through the long sultry day the stream must flow

Ere it can mirror twilight’s purple skies.

Fall back unscathed from contact with the vain,

Keep thy robes white, thy spirit bold and free,

And calmly launch affection’s bark again,

Hopeful of golden spoils reserved for thee.

Though lone the way as that already trod,

Cling to thine own integrity and God!