We saw her, like a melancholy star,
A pensive moon, move towards us o'er the plain.
VI
Sweet was her face as song that tells of home;
And filled our hearts with vague, suggestive spells
Of pathos, as sad ocean fills its shells
With sympathetic moanings of the foam.
VII
She raised one hand and pointed silently,
And passed; her eyes, gaunt with a thirst unslaked,