A low plashing oar:
See! yonder a shadow;
It touches the shore.
’Tis he—safe returning—
Joy leaps to her eyes:
And clasped to his bosom,
“My husband!” she sighs.
THE ISLETS OF THE GULF;
OR, ROSE BUDD.
A low plashing oar:
See! yonder a shadow;
It touches the shore.
’Tis he—safe returning—
Joy leaps to her eyes:
And clasped to his bosom,
“My husband!” she sighs.
OR, ROSE BUDD.