With wistful smile and look so sadly fair,
But when the head was turned, ’twas not the one.
And my sad heart fed on its grief again.
So runs my song. The sea, in other days,
Broke on the shores of time encircled men
And maids, whose hearts, like ours, sang such sad lays.
Are those souls happy there, who here found pain?
I wonder if we’ll ever meet again.
—Norman McLeod.