And Enoch faced this morning of farewell Brightly and boldly. All his Annie’s fears, Save as his Annie’s, were a laughter to him. Yet Enoch as a brave God-fearing man 185 Bow’d himself down, and in that mystery Where God-in-man is one with man-in-God, Pray’d for a blessing on his wife and babes Whatever came to him: and then he said ‘Annie, this voyage by the grace of God 190 Will bring fair weather yet to all of us. Keep a clean hearth and a clear fire for me, For I’ll be back, my girl, before you know it.’ Then lightly rocking baby’s cradle ‘and he, This pretty, puny, weakly little one,— 195 Nay—for I love him all the better for it— God bless him, he shall sit upon my knees And I will tell him tales of foreign parts, And make him merry, when I come home again. Come Annie, come, cheer up before I go.’ 200 Him running on thus hopefully she heard, And almost hoped herself; but when he turn’d The current of his talk to greater things In sailor fashion roughly sermonizing On providence and trust in Heaven, she heard, 205 Heard and not heard him; as the village girl, Who sets her pitcher underneath the spring, Musing on him that used to fill it for her, Hears and not hears, and lets it overflow. At length she spoke ‘O Enoch, you are wise; 210 And yet for all your wisdom well know I That I shall look upon your face no more.’ ‘Well then,’ said Enoch, ‘I shall look on yours. Annie, the ship I sail in passes here (He named the day) get you a seaman’s glass, 215 Spy out my face, and laugh at all your fears.’ But when the last of those last moments came, ‘Annie, my girl, cheer up, be comforted, Look to the babes, and till I come again, Keep everything shipshape, for I must go. 220 And fear no more for me; or if you fear Cast all your cares on God; that anchor holds. Is He not yonder in those uttermost Parts of the morning? if I flee to these Can I go from Him? and the sea is His, 225 The sea is His: He made it.’ Enoch rose, Cast his strong arms about his drooping wife, And kiss’d his wonder-stricken little ones; But for the third, the sickly one, who slept 230 After a night of feverous wakefulness, When Annie would have raised him Enoch said ‘Wake him not; let him sleep; how should the child Remember this?’ and kiss’d him in his cot. But Annie from her baby’s forehead clipt 235 A tiny curl, and gave it: this he kept Thro’ all his future; but now hastily caught His bundle, waved his hand, and went his way. She, when the day, that Enoch mention’d, came, Borrow’d a glass, but all in vain: perhaps 240 She could not fix the glass to suit her eye; Perhaps her eye was dim, hand tremulous; She saw him not: and while he stood on deck Waving, the moment and the vessel past.