MIRIAM.
Reading edition
———
BY E. M. SIDNEY.
———
She opens her lattice,
And looks on the lake;
O’er its slumbering surface,
No murmurs awake.
Afar, o’er the mountain,
The moon has long set:
The morning breeze freshens,—
Why tarries he yet?
A sound in the distance,
A low plashing oar:
See! yonder a shadow;
It touches the shore.
’Tis he—safe returning—
Joy leaps to her eyes:
And clasped to his bosom,
“My husband!” she sighs.