MY ships are blown about the world,
From Heart’s Content to iceless Ind;
The tides play out, the winds come down,
And perils follow tide and wind.
When Fancy tricks me into dreams,
I see my love in royal rooms, —
More than a queen when all are queens,
And kings beside her seem like grooms.
Meanwhile she spins her wheel indoors,
Beginning when the days begin ;
“We shall not want,” — her very words,—
“ Though never ship of thine come in.”