IN yonder bay the waves find rest,
They die along the great shore's breast,
With one low sound
Of longing for the fuller breeze
Which rode across the trackless seas,
And swept them round.
Ah, love, if I might find their rest,
Might end my wanderings on thy breast,
I should not sigh
For fuller life, so I might stay
My heart's throb on thy heart some day,
Before I die.