Song IV
I HEAR the waves to-night
Piteously calling, calling
Though the light
Of the kind moon is falling,
Like kisses, on the sea
That calls for sunshine, dear, as my soul calls for thee.
I see the sea lie gray
Wrinkling her brows in sorrow,
Hear her say:—
‘Bright love of yesterday, return to-morrow,
Sun, I am thine, am thine!’
Oh sea, thy love will come again, but what of mine?
