The hour flew on—ah me! ’twas our last meeting Ere he would cross the sea; And when again we two should offer greeting, I was his bride to be. So we clung close, each costly moment counting, Wild with our vain self-pity!— The hour was o’er—then slowly on thee mounting, He rode back to the city. O Donald! Yesterday, to Wemyss Bay going, I passed that very spot; I saw thee browse, whilst our swift tears were flowing— (I have not yet forgot). He sailed across the sea; but came not hither For me, his bride, again; And Hope and Joy fled far—I know not whither, But left me Love and Pain. My lonely days are dull and cold and common, And thine mayhap are done; But—a _new_ day dawns for man and woman After this setting sun. K. T. * * * * * Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH. * * * * * _All Rights Reserved._