Of my wee one's eyes,—

Those wondering eyes.

He will come, my sweet,

And will haste to meet

Those hurrying feet

And those sea-blue eyes.

I know the day

Must weary away,

And my ship's in the bay,—

In the clear, blue bay,—

Ah! there's wind in the west,

For the waves have a crest,

But my bird's in the nest

And my ship's in the bay!

[Pg 44]

Gratitude.

There are some things, dear Friend, are easier far

To say in written words than when we sit

Eye answering eye, or hand to hand close knit.

Not that there is between us any bar

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