A lass weeps on the shore,
She waves a last adieu to him,
Who may return no more!
On the tops of distant mountains
The sun's last rays alight,
Darkness is gathering over all, -
Sad little maid, good night!
Once more on the strand the maiden
Watcheth at early dawn,
Her face is bright as the sunshine, -
Glad little maid, good morn!
A. L. H.