BY W. WALLACE SHAW.
With wearied step, and heavy heart,
O'erburdened with life's woes—
My soul bowed down with grief and care
The orphan only knows—
I strayed along old ocean's shore,
Where I had wandered oft before,
My grief to hide from men;
I listened—something seemed to say—
The joys that once did fill thy breast
Where, oh! where are they?
A voice that mingled with the roar
Of dashing waves against the shore,
In hollow tone, replied—
"They bloomed; and died!"