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FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND.
The gray above was streaked with smiling blue,
The snowy gulls sailed o'er;
The shining golden-rod waved, where it grew,
A welcome to the shore.
Peaceful the whole, and sweet. Beyond the sand,
The dwelling-place I sought
Lay in the sunshine. All the scene I scanned
Full of one wistful thought:
Saw any eyes our vessel near the shore
From vine-draped windows quaint?
Waited my bright, shy darling at the door,
Fairer than words could paint?
I did not see her gleaming golden head,
Nor hear her clear voice call;
As up the beach I went with rapid tread,
Lonely and still was all.
But on the smooth sand printed, far and near,
I saw her footsteps small;
Here had she loitered, here she hastened, here
She climbed the low stone wall.
Such pathos in those little footprints spoke,
I paused and lingered long;
Listening as far away the billows broke
With the old solemn song.
"The infinite hoary spray of the salt sea,"
In yet another tide,
The snowy gulls sailed o'er;
The shining golden-rod waved, where it grew,
A welcome to the shore.
Peaceful the whole, and sweet. Beyond the sand,
The dwelling-place I sought
Lay in the sunshine. All the scene I scanned
Full of one wistful thought:
Saw any eyes our vessel near the shore
From vine-draped windows quaint?
Waited my bright, shy darling at the door,
Fairer than words could paint?
I did not see her gleaming golden head,
Nor hear her clear voice call;
As up the beach I went with rapid tread,
Lonely and still was all.
But on the smooth sand printed, far and near,
I saw her footsteps small;
Here had she loitered, here she hastened, here
She climbed the low stone wall.
Such pathos in those little footprints spoke,
I paused and lingered long;
Listening as far away the billows broke
With the old solemn song.
"The infinite hoary spray of the salt sea,"
In yet another tide,
