THE SAILOR'S WIFE.
"See the spirits, how they crowd!
Watching death with eyes that burn!
Waves rush in" she shrieks aloud,
Ere her waking sense return.
The storm is gone: the skies are clear:
Hush'd is that bitter cry of pain:
The only sound, that meets her ear,
The heaving of the sullen main.
Though heaviness endure the night,
Yet joy shall come with break of day:
She shudders with a strange delight—
The fearful dream is pass'd away.
She wakes: the grey dawn streaks the dark:
With early song the copses ring:
Far off she hears the watch-dog bark
A joyful bark of welcoming!
Feb. 23, 1857.
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