Human Sorrows

Our happy bathers, — pardon my romance!
I thought of gladness only, for the tide
Ran sparkling to the land in merry dance;
But, oh! what sorrows haunt our sweet seaside!
Man, child, and woman mourn the wide world o'er;
Yon maiden's snowy foot, that meets the wave,
Has just come faltering from her lover's grave,
Just pass'd that orphan-group upon the shore;
The yacht glides gaily on, but as it nears
The beach, I see a night-black dress on board —
The lonely widow dreams of those three years
Of summer-voyaging with her lost lord:
Too oft, when human figures fill the scene,
We count from woe to woe, with no glad hearts between!