I cast a leaf on the flowing tide,
Writing it first upon either side, With lines that compassed a world for me,
Which way soever ran destiny. "Go forth, " I murmured, "to meet thy fate,
Or yon or hither, or soon or late." Widely it drifted away, away,
Through many and many an after day. The tide aye flowing, my leaflet fled;
I dumbly mourned as we mourn the dead, A little moment and then forgot,
In what I had, what I had not; Till over the waters a stranger came
Bringing me guerdon too sweet to name. "The drift of the tide brought me thy leaf,
Thy lines of sorrow have touched my grief "With healing--pressed in a sacred place
It is mine and thine by love's good grace." Then he opened the book of his heart to me,
"Behold, " he whispered, "'twas Destiny!"