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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!"