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The gulf's far shore my straining sight
 * Scarce reaches through the deepening shades,

And, mingling with the growing night,
 * The gorgeous glow of sunset fades.

The lowing kine have ceased their moan;
 * The furnace fires have lit the brine;

And the quick chimes, with cheerful tone,
 * Ring out the evening hour of nine.

The marshy tribes renew their tune.
 * And spring with fragrance fills the breeze;

And in full sail the ascending moon
 * Glides on her course through airy seas.

And now the sister Pleiads sink;
 * The lighthouse beacons flash and fade;

And, bending o'er the water's brink,
 * The cedars frown in darker shade.

Ah, once again through streaming tears
 * My thoughts retrace their ancient track,

And through the mists of by-gone years
 * To well-remembered scenes go back.

This is the spot—I marked it well;
 * Thy face was sad, thine eyes were wet,

When thy voice, mingling with the bell.
 * Breathed its "Good-by!" and "Don't forget!"

Dim on the wave the barge receded
 * That bore thee swiftly from the shore,

And the light breeze brought back unheeded
 * The sullen plashing of the oar;

But, when once more I stood alone.
 * Where both so oft of old had met,