XfeNBgfctttg&? #iffö&ttaÉ bleak winds are Hete'onTho sliore, with its drift-wood and Bands : Over the rivet tttè lilies are wavi'lgi ■ . Battód in the suushine of Oriënt larida Over the river- the wide di'.rk rivnr, ... ... Spring time aüd tmmmeï are blooming.foreVeï. Here, all alone on the rocka, I am sitting- Sirting and waiting- my comraOas uil gone ; Shadows i f iriySte'y dfedflly flitthig Over the suri with its sorrowful moan. Over the river- the strange, cold river, Ah ! must I wait for the Boatman forevei' ? Wife and cliildren and fricnds were around me, Labor and rest were as wings to my soul ; Honor and love were the laurels that BWmM !Jl' , . ■ ■:.' ■ - ■ Little I recked how the dark waters roll ; But the deep river- the groy, misty river, AU that I lived for has taken forevcr I Silcntly carne a black boat o'er the billovvs, Stealthily grated the keel on the .snnd ; Rntliug footüteps wef o hcftrd thrcugk the wülows, There the dark Boatman stood, waving lus hand, Whisp'ring, " I come o'nr the shadowy river ; She who is dtru-ost must loave thee forever." Buns that were brightest áftd êkics tliat WBre bluest, Darkened and paled in the message he bore ; Year after year wfint tjie fondost, the truest, ; Following that backonlug hand to the shore, Down to the river- the cold, grim river, Over whose waters they vanished iorever. Ytt nDt hl Visions of gñef I have wanderecl, Still have I toiled, though my ardors have flown ; Labor is manhood, and life is but squandered Dreaming vague dreams.of the f ttU'O alO116. Yet from tho tidoa A the Mystical river Voices of spirits are whispering ever. Lonely and old, in the dusk I am waiting Till the dark Boatman, with soft, muffled oar Glides o'er tho waves, and I heav the keel gratingi . , Scö the dim, bockoning hand on the shore, Wafting me over the wulcoming rivor To gardeus and homes that aro shining forever !