1 88 "RA CK- O -BONES."
And wondering pilgrims to that shore Saw isle or prophet nevermore.
��The sunken island ! Ah, twere well If only legends wild could tell The tale. On Life s broad sea Such things as these there often be Bright spots that softly shine and gleam, Fair as a sinless angel s dream And yet they sink, and all but we Go floating on right merrily.
So each alone his secret keeps, Where his lost vision bides and sleeps Sails bravely on, and makes no moan Over the fairy landscape gone ; Yet glancing where the rushes gro\v, Bent by the breath of the Long Ago, He says no word, but dreams the while Of the unforgotten Sunken Isle.
��"RACK-O -BONES."
PULL with a will at the work-house bell ! The beggar sleeps in his coffin well Ring with an echo ; he won t awake ! Such sleep, such music, will never break.
�� �
