Page:Over the river, and other poems.djvu/91

Faintly the breath of the summer roses
Comes on the dewy twilight air.

Still she sits by the window lonely,
Gazing out, though the night grows dark;
While her thoughts—winged rovers—are following only
The outward course of a gallant bark.

One that she loves as she loves none other,
One she has loved this many a day
Better than father, better than brother,
Sailed this morn in the ship away.

So she heeds not the wind's caressing;

She is standing again on the wave-washed shore;