And then it was that first the deep-voiced sea
Sang low to thee and me
Its ancient secrets by the lonely shore;
And we two watched the strange birds dip and soar
Between the fading sea-line, far and dim,
And the white dazzle of the sands' long rim.
All that thou saidst—all that we heard and told
In some lost language old—
Has perished like the speech; yet this remains:
From the vast desert of the ocean-plains
A great moon climbing, with a dull red glare
Like smouldering fire, far up the purple air.
And then—I cannot grasp it—yet I know
That something, long ago,
Held fast thy soul to mine with cords of pain
And marvellous joy, and love's sweet loss and gain.
All save that love the years have swept away—
A thousand years, a single yesterday!
But when my soul dreams, by the lonely sea,
Back to eternity,
I hear an echo, through its hollow moan,
From those lost lives drowned in the centuries gone:
I catch the haunting memory, and I know
The secret that you told me long ago.
G.A. Davis.
It is not usual that the body of moisture can be reached so near the surface, but this magazine is situated on low ground.
DUNGENESS, GENERAL GREENE'S SEA-ISLAND PLANTATION.
Southernmost of those famed "Sea Islands" of Georgia, lying right in sight of Florida's northern shore, on the northern verge of the tropic border-land, Cumberland Island presents its beach-front to the ocean. It unites within itself all those attractions which have made Florida famous—all but river and lake: it has the balmiest climate in the South; the vegetation of its forests is semi-tropical; it has game in abundance. It has all these, and yet its territory is now a waste.