Of the near waves came sadly grand
Through the dark, up the drowned sand.
Tristram and Iseult.
“And she is happy? does she see unmoved
The days in which she might have lived and loved
Slip without bringing bliss slowly away,
One after one, to-morrow like to-day?”
Iseult of Brittany.
“You heard from Gwyneth this morning, dear,” said Captain Duncan to his sister one evening, as they sat together after tea. They had been in their new home about two years.
“Yes, here is the letter.”