Page:Forget Me Not 1824.pdf/4

3 Rode like a queen of ocean. Ellen wept, But not disconsolate, for she had hope. She knew not then the bitterness of tears. But night closed in; and with the night there came Tempest upon the wind, the beacon light Glared like a funeral pile; all else was black And terrible as death. We heard a sound Come from the ocean—one lone signal gun, Asking for help in vain—followed by shrieks, Mocked by the ravening gale; then deepest silence. Some gallant souls had perished. With the first Dim light of morn, they sought the beach; and there Lay fragments of a ship, and human shapes, Ghastly and gashed. But the worst sight of all— The sight of living misery, met their gaze. Seated upon a rock, drenched by the rain, Her hair torn by the wind, there Ellen sat, Pale, motionless. How could love guide her there? A corpse lay by her; in her arms its head Found a fond pillow, and o‘er it she watched, As the young mother watches her first child. It was her lover— L. E. L.