When The Tide Comes In by Helen Hunt Jackson

WHEN the tide comes in,

At once the shore and sea begin

Together to be glad.

What the tide has brought

No man has asked, no man has sought:

What other tides have had

The deep sand hides away;

The last bit of the wrecks they wrought

Was burned up yesterday.

When the tide goes out,

The shore looks dark and sad with doubt.

The landmarks are all lost.

For the tide to turn

Men patient wait, men restless yearn.

Sweet channels they have crossed,

In boats that rocked with glee,

Stretch now bare stony roads that burn

And lead away from sea.

When the tide comes in

In hearts, at once the hearts begin

Together to be glad.

What the tide has brought

They do not care, they have not sought.

All joy they ever had

The new joy multiplies;

All pain by which it may be bought

Seems paltry sacrifice.

When the tide goes out,

The hearts are wrung with fear and doubt:

All trace of joy seems lost.

Will the tide return?

In restless questioning they yearn,

With hands unclasped, uncrossed,

They weep, on separate ways.

Ah! darling, shall we ever learn

Love's tidal hours and days?

Artist John William Waterhouse