Sonnet Viii:

VIII O weary watches of the dismal night! O lone, lone soul that staggers through the dark, Sullen and moody, like a night-bound bark, That feels opposing surges roughly smite Her groaning prow, and hiss behind her flight;-- Where lies thy haven? Towards what scopeless mark Dost thou direct thy desperate course? A spark Gleams through the darkness; and the helmsman's sight Broods o'er the trembling needle, which is shown Within its circuit, and by that he steers. So I, through doubt, dismay, rebuffs, and sneers, Have fixed my eyes upon my heart alone,-- Yea, seen it clearly, spite of blinding tears, In my love's light: by that my course is known.