And then——Ah, me! a cloud is o'er the sun,
The breeze is cold, and life has lost its charm;
The song has ceased—the maid has gone and left
The Sketch unfinished, and the Sketcher sad!
[ON BOARD THE "GLADYS."]
L
Fresh briny breezes are blowing so free;
Never once thinking of longi—or lati—tude,