The Better Choice
If it were mine again to choose,
I’d choose the same, I ween;
The sullen sky, the stormy main,
The tossing bark between,
The long night-watches at the wheel,
The one faint guiding star,
The tug of sea-strained rudder-chains,
The thought of you afar.
I’d choose again the salt sea spray,
The sloping, heaving deek,
To dare again abysmal deeps,
The storm’s swift shock and wreck,
And laugh and feel my heart grow big
To know, each night at home,
You knelt beside your couch and prayed
For me across the foam.
I’d leave you for the vision, dear,
Of you, dear heart, alone
At midnight by your window wide
When wind-thonged seas make moan;
A wee and tearful, night-robed form,
With golden, wind-flung hair,
With staining eyes and thought for me
Amid the lightning’s flare.
I’d choose al this; the lonely life,
The hurricane-flung foam
That bites the cheek, for just the joy
That’s mine on coming home!
He chooses ill who woos and wins
And settles down to stay;
Who woos, and wins, and weds, and leaves,
Has heartful love always.