THE BROTHER'S DIRGE.
163
But thou, but thou, my brother!
Thy life-drops flowed for me—
Would I were with thee in thy rest,
Young sleeper of the sea.
In a sheltered home of England
Our sister dwells alone,
With quick heart listening for the sound
Of footsteps that are gone.
She little dreams, my brother!
Of the wild fate we have found;
I, midst the Afric sands a slave,
Thou, by the dark seas bound.
