FISHERMEN'S MEMORIAL AND RECORD BOOK. 



145 



A WAIF. 



BY 1L C. L. HA8KELL. 



The autumn day 



Rich In its regal beauty lay 



Over headland and beach and sen. 



And the voice of the waves sang dreamily 



A sweet, low tale to tho listening ear; 



A tale, as if never a breath of fear, 



Or shadow of sorrow, could cloud the bloc, 



Or darken the sunlight glinting through 



Tho mellow air. It was fair, I ween. 



That autumn sunlight, that harbor scene, 



As over tho waves, that golden day, 



A trim bark sailed on Its voyage away. 



Gloucester town 



Lies where the winter sunbeams down 

 On its roofs and spires are shining bright, 

 On the tall masts showing slim and bare, 



On Stage Head Battery, and where 



Gleams the tower of Ten Pound Island light: 



But never again to Gloucester town, 



Around the Point and up to the town 



\Vill tho good hark glide, that sailed away 



In the dreamy hush of that autumn day. 



There 're those who'll waltand watch and weep, 



And gaze afar o'er the heaving deep, 



And wish for tho loved to come once more 



For tho bark to sail for Capo Ann's shore. 



Ah I none may know In the sea-girt town 



Dow or when that staunch bark went down 



For those who within her sailed the main 



Never will como to port again. 



Father of goodness and mercy be 



With those who mourn for the lost at seal 



