Sobbing loud and bitterly.

Long and golden curls are falling
Down his neck and o'er his shoulders;
Now he glances backward sighing,
And the silent ship flies on!

With a little, shining kerchief,
Fluttering upon the breezes,
Unto me he sends a greeting,
From afar he waves farewell.

And my heart is throbbing wildly,
I am weeping--tell me wherefore?
God! that lovely child, I know him!
'Tis my youth that flies from me!




To My Misery


O Misery of mine, no other
In faithfulness can match with thee,
Thou more than friend, and more than brother,
The only thing that cares for me!

Where'er I turn, are unkind faces,
And hate and treachery and guile,