Mary’s Dream

Marry’s Dream.
180.5

The moon had climbed the highest hill
That rises o’er the source of Deo,
And from her eastern summit shed
Her silvery light on tower and tree.
When Mary laid her down to sleep,
Her thoughts on Bandy, for at sea,
When sort and low a voice she heard,
Saying. “Mary, weep no more for me.”

She from her pillow gently raised
Her head to ask who there might be;
She saw young Sandy shivering stand.
With visage vale and hollow e’e.
“Oh, Mary, dear, cold is my clay,
It les beneath the stormy sea;
Far, far in death 1 sleep from thee,
So, Mary, weep no more for me.

“Three stormy nights and stormy days
We tossed upon the raging main.
And long we strove our our ship to save,
But all our striving was in vain.
Even then, when horror chilled my blood,
My heart was filled with love for thee;
The storm is past, and I’m at rest,
So, Mary, weep no more for me.

“Oh. Mary, dear, thyself prepare,
We soon shall meet upon that shore
Where love is free from doubt and care,
And you and I shall part no more,”
Loud crew the cock, the shadow fled;
No more of Sandy could she see: B
ut soft and low the spirit said:
“Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.”