HE WILL COME BACK.

Slow the sunset’s glory fades In a thousand shifting shades, Crimson passing into gray, Where the waters of the bay, Mirror, serve the sky alway. From the dim, far-reaching sea Blows the cool wind merrily, Fills the snowy sails spread wide, And the fishers gaily glide Out against a rising tide. Children on the sea-beach white Watch them speeding out of sight; Rose, the eldest of the band, Sees but him who waves his hand— Boldest sailor in the land. “All is well when father goes,” Softly murmurs little Rose, Listening to the breaker’s moan, As she wends her way alone Up the cliff-side to her home. Thro’ the night the storm-bells toll, And she hears the thunder’s roll, Sees across the heaven’s black The red lightning’s zigzag track; Still, “I know he will come back!” Broken spar and shattered mast, By the reckless billows cast On the shore at early day, As they, guilty, steal away, Find the villagers and say— While above them smiles the sun— “’Twill go hard with such an one, ’Twill be sad for these and those, But who shall the news disclose To the little orphan Rose?” Rose, small housewife, mixing bread, When they tell her shakes her head: “Do you think I can forget All the perils he has met, And naught ever harmed him yet?” And the neighbors say, “Poor child!” Whispering, “Grief has made her wild.” But at eve white sails behold! Flashing up a path of gold, Just as little Rose foretold.