A dreadful rumor filled the town.

They told us gently he was dead,--
I would not credit what they said:
But when I knew it reason fled.

I woke to real life once more;
My dream of happiness was o'er--
I stood upon a desert shore.

All day I heard the billows moan,
All night I answered groan with groan,
For I was desolate and lone.

There came no message o'er the sea,
No message from the lost to me,
And I repined at God's decree.

The bolt was spared--and o'er my head
The bow of mercy shone instead,
And I at last was comforted.

Now when the billows rage and roar,
I think it shortly will be o'er,--
'Tis calm upon the other shore.

I look at Time as one who sees
A pale leaf floating on the breeze
Amid a grove of noble trees.