A PICTURE.
87
She is asking herself the dreadful question,
"What if his ship should return no more?"
The clock strikes one: in dreams she hears it.
What can have changed the scene so soon?
For the wind wails now like a restless spirit,
And dark clouds drift o'er the rising moon.
Ay, weep, fond dreamer! for ere the morning,
Dark and stormy, shall dawn on thee,
He will have gone beyond returning
Over Death's dim, unsounded sea.
