The Lonesome Wave

There is an island

In the middle of my heart,

And all day comes lapping on the shore

A long silver wave.

It is the lonesome wave;

I cannot see the other side of it.

It will never go away

Until it meets the glad gold wave

Of happiness!

Wandering over the monstrous rocks,

Looking into the caves,

I see my island dark, all cold,

Until the gold wave sweeps in

From a sea deep blue,

And flings itself on the beach.

Oh, it is joy, then!

No more whispers like sorrow,

No more silvery lonesome lapping of the long wave . . .