Who treads the lonesome sand beach,
With wet, disordered hair,
With garments tangled with seaweed,
And cheeks more pale than fair?
O blue-eyed, white-browed maiden,
He will keep love's tryst no more;
His ship sailed safely into port—
But on the heavenward shore.
Santa Cruz., Cal., 1864.
A GOLDEN WEDDING.
Down the vista of the years
Bright with joy, or dim with tears,
Turning back our gaze,
Not a shadow falls between
You and I in all that scene
Of life's checkered ways.
Kindly by the Father led,
Since the day that we were wed
Years have fluttered by,
Silently as leaves that fall
By the sunny garden wall
When the roses die.
Los Angeles, 1887.
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