Xiii

"Behold," he cried, "on yonder wave, The only one with whom I stray, The only image still I have, Too often, even while I pray To Him who gave.

The form she saw was long unknown, Except as that beheld yestreen; Till viewing, not that form alone, But his, with hands enclasped between, She guessed her own.

And, bending o'er in sweet surprise, Perused, with simple child's delight, The flowing hair, and forehead white, And soft inquiring eyes.