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Like driftwood spares which meet and pass
Upon the boundless ocean-plain,
So on the sea of life, read more
Like driftwood spares which meet and pass
Upon the boundless ocean-plain,
So on the sea of life, alas!
Man nears man, meets, and leaves again.
We shall meet but we shall miss her.
We shall meet but we shall miss her.
The joy of meeting not unmixed with pain.
The joy of meeting not unmixed with pain.
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
Only a signal shown and a distant read more
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness:
So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another,
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
Some day, some day of days, threading the street
With idle, heedless pace,
Unlooking for such grace,
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Some day, some day of days, threading the street
With idle, heedless pace,
Unlooking for such grace,
I shall behold your face!
Some day, some day of days, thus may we meet.
In life there are meetings which seem
Like a fate.
In life there are meetings which seem
Like a fate.
Two lives that once part, are as ships that divide
When, moment on moment, there rushes between
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Two lives that once part, are as ships that divide
When, moment on moment, there rushes between
The one and the other, a sea;--
Ah, never can fall from the days that have been
A gleam on the years that shall be!
And soon, too soon, we part with pain,
To sail o'er silent seas again.
And soon, too soon, we part with pain,
To sail o'er silent seas again.
