THE WAVES THAT ON THE SPARKLING SAND.

The waves that on the sparkling sand Their foaming crests upheave, Lightly receding from the land, Seem not a trace to leave. Those billows in their ceaseless play, Have worn the solid rocks away. The summer winds, which wandering sigh Amid the forest bower, So gently as they murmur by, Scarce lift the drooping flower. Yet bear they, in autumnal gloom, Spring’s withered beauties to the tomb. Thus worldly cares, though lightly borne, Their impress leave behind; And spirits, which their bonds would spurn, The blighting traces find. ’Till altered thoughts and hearts grown cold, The change of passing years unfold.