Page:Enoch Arden, etc - Tennyson - 1864.djvu/116

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SEA DREAMS.
Said, “trust him not;” but after, when I cameTo know him more, I lost it, knew him less;Fought with what seem’d my own uncharity;Sat at his table; drank his costly wines;Made more and more allowance for his talk;Went further, fool! and trusted him with all,All my poor scrapings from a dozen yearsOf dust and deskwork: there is no such mine,None; but a gulf of ruin, swallowing gold,Not making. Ruin’d! ruin’d! the sea roarsRuin: a fearful night!’
‘Not fearful; fair,’Said the good wife, ‘if every star in heavenCan make it fair: you do but bear the tide.Had you ill dreams?’
‘O yes,’ he said, ‘I dream’dOf such a tide swelling toward the land,And I from out the boundless outer deep
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