. Dreams and realities . oor ship, with no help or succor nigh, Struggling amid the breakers, far from shore,With frantic beings roused from midnight sleepTo find a grave within the briny deep. The hours pass by, the hurricane is oer, A few pale stars peep frightened from the sky, The blackened wreck drifts helplessly toward shore;But neath the gurgling waves the sailors lie. The storm was brief; it was a cruel fate; The calm came soon, but came, alas! too late. Ah me! a life on times great ocean once set sail,As fair as ever left the Fathers care, A life that dreamed of no such word as fail,F
. Dreams and realities . oor ship, with no help or succor nigh, Struggling amid the breakers, far from shore,With frantic beings roused from midnight sleepTo find a grave within the briny deep. The hours pass by, the hurricane is oer, A few pale stars peep frightened from the sky, The blackened wreck drifts helplessly toward shore;But neath the gurgling waves the sailors lie. The storm was brief; it was a cruel fate; The calm came soon, but came, alas! too late. Ah me! a life on times great ocean once set sail,As fair as ever left the Fathers care, A life that dreamed of no such word as fail,Followed and guarded by a mothers prayer. But winds of hate oertook the fragile bark, And storms of fate have made its pathway dark. And now, although the cruel storms have passed,And the wild waves have ceased to lash and roar, WRECKED. 39 And the long-prayed-for calm has come at last,It drifts, a helpless wreck, far out from shore,Wrecked, soul and body, by its cruel fate,For peace and calm have come at last—too THE POWER OF LOVE. THE master workman made a beauteous harp—A harp of pearl, with strings of pure studded it with jewels, bright as stars, Yet when he swept the strings the notes werecold. Where was the melody for which he longed ? He burst into a flood of bitter tears;Something seemed lacking, though the notes weresweet; Lost was the work of weary, weary years. A wild despair swept oer the workmans soul; The harp lay silent like a cold, dead thing;And he had dreamed the world would pause to hear The melody when once he touched the string. He laid the harp aside; he stood aloneAmid the ruins of his dreams so fair; Alas ! ambition, when thy fires burn low,So swiftly follows then the dark despair. Years passed. The workman wandered far,In distant lands, and there he learned to love. THE POWER OF LOVE. 41 Earth suddenly became a paradise, He dreamed of bliss like angels know above. But ah, the golden dream was all too brief. He woke to find that he had
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