Safe from the ocean-wave, safe from the storm:
For Memory keeps the spot fresh and green ever,
The dark tides of Time, shall sweep over it never!

There Fancy, her mirror holds up to the eye,
And lovely the forms that come wandering by,
Like music come softly the sounds that have fled,
The voices of lov'd ones, the tones of the dead:
Oh Memory! keep that spot fresh and green ever,
And the dark tides of Time, sweep over it never.

For beautiful Hope, wanders oft to the Isle,
With her wreath of bright flowers, and radiant smile.
She stands with her finger upraised to the sky,
And she dries the sad tear-drop in Memory's eye:
An emerald green, be that Island for ever,
May the dark tides of Time, sweep over it never!

Kirton, Lindsey. ANNE R.

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ANECDOTE GALLERY


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