Page:Landon in The New Monthly 1838.pdf/9



Lonely—lonely on the shore— Where the mighty waters roar, Would that she could pass them o'er! Doth the maiden stand. Those small ivory feet are bare, Rosy as the small shells are, They are, than the feet, less fair On that sea-beat strand! Wherefore doth the girl complain? Wind and wave will hear in vain.

Dark as is the raven's breast Wand'ring wild in its unrest— Like a human thought in quest Of a future hour. Do her raven tresses flow Over neck and arm below, White as is the silent snow, Or the early flower! Coming ere the summer sun Colours what it shines upon.