Which surely will, in TIME, O’ERTAKE HER.
The NEGRO GIRL.
I.
Dark was the dawn, and o’er the deep
The boist’rous whirlwinds blew;
The Sea-bird wheel’d its circling sweep,
And all was drear to view—
When on the beach that binds the western shore
The love-lorn Zelma stood, list’ning the tempest’s roar.
II.