by Marie Trevelyan.
Originally published in The Poet's Magazine (Leonard Lloyd) vol.4 #18 (Apr 1878).
Down on the sands where twilight waves are leaping
In tuneful glee;
Down on the shore while silver mists are creeping
Across the sea;
Down where the ripples run when winds are sleeping,
I think of thee!
Down on the rocks when morning braids her tresses
In amber caves,
And when the night breeze amorously presses
To kiss the waves,
Ay, from the dawn's first flush, till starbeams sever
Night-time and day,
Thy name falls from my lips—in sad tones ever,
For though I call thee dearest, thou wilt never
Come down this way!
Fair sunset hues upon low rock-reefs dying,
And outward waves around yon sand-bank sighing,
And shrill-voiced seagulls from the haven flying,
Return again;
But, in the narrow grave 'neath aspens lying,
Thou must remain!
Perchance in after-time, we both may wander
Through flowery fields and pleasant meadows yonder,
And by clear streams:
But now I live my life so drear and lonely,
And oft I see thee by my side—yet only
In fading dreams!