The shell-strewn beach that edged the main,
A manly footstep pressed;
The wanderer had returned again,--
The maiden's heart was blessed!


THE DESERTED.

"Come, sit thee by my side once more,
'Tis long since thus we' met;
And though our dream of love is o'er,
Its sweetness lingers yet.
Its transient day has long been past,
Its flame has ceased to burn,--
But Memory holds its spirit fast,
Safe in her sacred urn.

"I will not chide thy wanderings,
Nor ask why thou couldst flee
A heart whose deep affection's springs
Poured forth such love for thee!
We may not curb the restless mind,
Nor teach the wayward heart
To love against its will, nor bind
It with the chains of art.

"I would but tell thee how, in tears
And bitterness, my soul
Has yearned with dreams, through long, long, years,