So now that shadow of mischance appear’d No graver than as when some little cloud Cuts off the fiery highway of the sun, 130 And isles a light in the offing: yet the wife— When he was gone—the children—what to do? Then Enoch lay long-pondering on his plans; To sell the boat—and yet he loved her well— How many a rough sea had he weathered in her! 135 He knew her, as a horseman knows his horse— And yet to sell her—then with what she brought Buy goods and stores—set Annie forth in trade With all that seamen needed or their wives— So might she keep the house while he was gone. 140 Should he not trade himself out yonder? go This voyage more than once? yea, twice or thrice— As oft as needed—last, returning rich, Become the master of a larger craft, With fuller profits lead an easier life, 145 Have all his pretty young ones educated, And pass his days in peace among his own. Thus Enoch in his heart determined all: Then moving homeward came on Annie pale, Nursing the sickly babe, her latest-born. 150 Forward she started with a happy cry, And laid the feeble infant in his arms; Whom Enoch took, and handled all his limbs, Appraised his weight and fondled fatherlike, But had no heart to break his purposes 155 To Annie, till the morrow, when he spoke. Then first since Enoch’s golden ring had girt Her finger, Annie fought against his will: Yet not with brawling opposition she, But manifold entreaties, many a tear, 160 Many a sad kiss by day or night renew’d (Sure that all evil would come out of it) Besought him, supplicating, if he cared For her or his dear children, not to go. He not for his own self caring but her, 165 Her and her children, let her plead in vain; So grieving held his will, and bore it thro.’ For Enoch parted with his old sea-friend, Bought Annie goods and stores, and set his hand To fit their little streetward sitting-room 170 With shelf and corner for the goods and stores. So all day long till Enoch’s last at home, Shaking their pretty cabin, hammer and axe, Auger and saw, while Annie seem’d to hear Her own death-scaffold raising, shrill’d and rang 175 Till this was ended, and his careful hand,— The space was narrow,—having order’d all Almost as neat and close as nature packs Her blossom or her seedling, paused; and he, Who needs would work for Annie to the last, 180 Ascending tired, heavily slept till morn.