Aye longing to list anew,
Awake and in my dream;

But never a song she sang like this,
Sewing her long white seam.

Fair fall the lights, the harbor-lights,
That brought me in to thee;

And peace drop down on that low roof
For the sight that I did see,

And the voice, my dear, that rang so clear, -
All for the love of me.

For oh, for oh! with brows bent low,
By the candle's flickering gleam,
Her wedding-gown it was she wrought,
Sewing the long white seam.

JEAN INGELOW.

THE WAVES.

HILDREN are we

CH

Of the restless sea:

Swelling in anger, or sparkling in glee,

We follow our race,

In shifting chase,

Over the boundless ocean-space.

Who hath beheld where the race begun?

Who shall behold it run?

Who shall behold it run?

When the smooth airs keep

Their noontide sleep,

We dimple the cheek of the dreaming deep;

"We follow our race, in shifting chase,

Over the boundless ocean-space." - Page 272.