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By The Seashore.

Written fob the Observer.

fi^y ITTTNG alone in sadness, Out by the foam-flecked shore, Musing on days of gladness, Dreaming of days of. yore. Calling back happy moments Now, ah ! for ever fled. Thinking of those who slumber Calmly with the dead. Watching the crescent moonlet Dipping behind the bourne, Plunged in the depths of sorrow, Desolate and forlorn. Is there no hope to greet us After our toil is o'er ? Will our lost loved ones meet us ? Is there a " distant shore ?"

List to the lapping wavelets Sobbing and sighing low ; List to the sighing night wind Sobbing and saying "no !" "No," in the wailing whisper, Borne on the rippling wave ; " No," in the sinking moonlet, "No," till the quiet grave Softly our sorrow covers, Sealing our earthly doora. " No," as the night bird hovers Over the silent tomb ; " No " is the solemn answer — Hear what the wavelets say ; " No " is the cruel sentence — " No," for ever and aye ! J. O'Meaghee, Auckland.

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Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TO18931221.2.35

Bibliographic details

Observer, 21 December 1893, Page 23

Word Count
166

By The Seashore. Observer, 21 December 1893, Page 23

By The Seashore. Observer, 21 December 1893, Page 23