Which in the early morning light was set
An emerald in a golden ring of sea.



II.--YOUTH.


The slow long wave crept up the ocean marge,
To steal the silver sparkle of the sand;
Then lapsing from the shore, I scarce could feel
Its soft pulsations underneath the keel,
As I sat patiently within the barge,
Until the breeze should bear me from the land.

And as I waited, lo! the morning sun
Rose golden on the misty eastern sky,
And through the rosy dells the sunbeams bright
Stole from the flowers the jewels of the night;
But yet no seaward zephyr had begun
To fill the canvas drooping listlessly.

I saw an aged man upon the shore,
There was a kindly smile upon his face
As thus he spake to me--"Here have I dwelt
For centuries, yet I have never felt
The winds of heaven upon my forehead, nor
Will they e'er visit this spell-haunted place.

Your gaily-painted barge will wait in vain