I come to thee
O'er the moonlit sea,
When the hoarse wave revisits thy shore!
When waters shout,
And the stars peep out,
I am with thee in spirit once more.
Then list the moan
Of the billows' foam,
Laving with surges thy silv'ry beach!
Night's dewy eye,
The sea-mew's lone cry,
Witness my presence and utter my speech.
Pleasant a grave
By the "Rock" or wave,
And afar from life's turmoil its goal.
No sculptured lie,
Or hypocrite sigh,
E'er to mock the bright truth of the soul.
Friends, will not ye
Think kindly of me,
In those moments to memory bestowed?
Smile on me yet,
O blue eyes and jet,
Soft as when parting thy sympathy glowed!
March 3, 1867.