395
THE ship-Wrecked Lover.
The Port-Reeve's maid has laid her down
Upon a restless pillow,
But wakeful thought is wander ng
Ayont the ocean billow.
Her love's away—he's far away—
A world of waves asunder—
Around him now the storm may burst
With fearful peals of thunder!
But yet—the night-wind's breath is faint,
The night-beam entereth meekly;
But when the moon's fair face is free,
Strange she should shine so weakly!—
Yet guided by her waning beam
His ship must swim securely—
Beneath so fair a sky as this
He'll strike his haven surely!
2 C
