And it is sad to be alone, alone.
But on my bosom thou hast lain thy hands,
Near to me art thou, near, my precious one--
My, baby, sleep, my baby, sleep.

The red light faded as she sung,
A chill breeze rose and swept across the sea,
She drew her cloak still closer round the child,
And turned toward the cabin;
As she went a faint glow glimmered
In the east, and slowly rose--
The silver crescent of the moon.
Another, paler light, than the warm sunset glow,
But clear enough to guide her home.



THE LAND OF LONG AGO.


Now while the crimson light fades in the west,
And twilight drops her purple shadows low--
We stand with Memory on the mountain's crest,
That overlooks the land of Long Ago.

Unmoved and still the form beside us stands,
While mournful tears our heavy eyes o'erflow,
As silently he lifts his shadowy hands,
And points us to the land of Long Ago.