These could not move my hardened breast!
I wandered, and for weary years
I sought for bliss, but found no rest.

I sought--yet ever sought in vain--
To find the peace, the joy of youth:
At last, I turned me back again,
And found them with my faithful Truth.




The Surf Sprite.


[Illustration: The Surf Sprite]

I.

In the far off sea there is many a sprite,
Who rests by day, but awakes at night.
In hidden caves where monsters creep,
When the sun is high, these spectres sleep:
From the glance of noon, they shrink with dread,
And hide 'mid the bones of the ghastly dead.
Where the surf is hushed, and the light is dull,
In the hollow tube and the whitened skull,
They crouch in fear or in whispers wail,
For the lingering night, and the coming gale.
But at even-tide, when the shore is dim,