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Cruel waves, ye have robbed me of all I held dear,
And there's nothing on earth I can love now or fear:
Ah! would ye but bear me to where he lies low
I would bless ye, and ban ye no more as a foe!
And there's nothing on earth I can love now or fear:
Ah! would ye but bear me to where he lies low
I would bless ye, and ban ye no more as a foe!
[I print the above, not because I am blind to its defects, but because it was the first poem I wrote, and the first piece of mine which was printed. It appeared in 1863 in a periodical called "The Key."]
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