_It tells not one of those vast mysteries_
_That lie beneath the surface of the seas_.

_Our songs are shells, cast out by-waves of thought_;
_Here, take them at your pleasure; but think not_

_You've seen beneath the surface of the waves_,
_Where lie our shipwrecks and our coral caves_.

[Illustration: THE POET'S SONG]




PREFACE

Among the twelve hundred poems which have emanated from my too prolific
pen there are some forty or fifty which treat entirely of that emotion
which has been denominated "the grand passion"--love. A few of those are
of an extremely fiery character.

When I issued my collection known as "Maurine, and Other Poems," I
purposely omitted all save two or three of these. I had been frequently
accused of writing only sentimental verses; and I took pleasure and
pride in presenting to the public a volume which contained more than one
hundred poems upon other than sentimental topics. But no sooner was the
book published than letters of regret came to me from friends and
strangers, and from all quarters of the globe, asking why this or that
love poem had been omitted. These regrets were repeated to me by so many