By The Lake.

The waves are dashing on the shore,      With wild, glad joy, I stand and view them;     And, as they break with sullen roar,      My heart responds with gladness, to them.     They've pow'r to thrill the human soul,      As on the shore they break so madly,     The spirit, bounding, hears their roll,      And speaks responsive, wildly, gladly.     The heart, with proud, defiant beats,      Re-echoes the triumphant roar,     And, as each wave its course retreats,      The pulse retires to beat once more.     The gull screams wildly o'er the waves,      Defiant in its stormy glee;     It screams, perchance, o'er wat'ry graves      And recks not, heeds not, nor do we.     But comes a time, when waves and wind,      In restful quietude remain,     A change then comes upon the mind,      And stormy passion's recent reign.     The gull sails softly thro' the air,      For all is calm and still below;     Peace, blessed peace is ev'rywhere,      And all regret the recent throe.     The man, remorseful, thinks of how      Defiant thoughts reign'd wild and high,     The waves are mourning, sobbing now,      In peace, but yet in agony.