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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
By all that from my weary soul thou hast wrung of grief and fear,
Come to me from the ocean's dead—awake, arise, appear!"
Was it her yearning spirit's dream,
Or did a pale form rise,
And o'er the hush'd wave glide and gleam,
With bright, still, mournful eyes?
"Have the depths heard?—they have!
My voice prevails—thou'rt there,
Dim from thy watery grave,
Oh! thou that wert so fair!
Yet take me to thy rest!
There dwells no fear with love;
Let me slumber on thy breast,
While the billows roll above!
