The Argosy — page 345: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

320 OVER THE SEA. I aM looking back through the days and weeks That lie in the shadowy land of yore, And a waking spirit stirs and speaks— The spirit of dead years gone before. Speaks with a murmur of mournful sighs, In a voice that carries the sound of tears, And lighting the lamp of its passionate eyes, It opens the shroud of the buried years. The wind is blowing up from the wold, The stars are shining down on the sea, | But the wind is bleak, and the light is cold, And ‘tis only of pain they speak to me. For the wind once toyed with a silken tress, And the stars once shone on a saintly face ; And how can a faithful love grow less ? Or a new love take the old love’s place? The sea is swirling up to my feet, : Singing its monody, soft and low ; | But the song of the sea is deadly sweet, For I mind how it slew me years ago. We had been parted, I and she, With many a hundred miles between, And now she was coming across the sea, (Oh, the sky was blue and the waves were green !) Coming—and yet she never came! Meeting—and yet.we met no more! She heard me not when I called her name, Though the dead might have heard me on that shore. Oh, Love, though my eyes but dimly see, There is Hope in my pathway where I tread— That over the sea thou wilt sail to me, In the day when the sea gives up her dead. J. T. Burron Wo.taston.