University of Virginia Library

VII. OH! WHEN THE TIDE WAS OUT.

Oh when the tide was out last night,
In yonder bay we roved,
We gathered shells, and on the sand
We wrote the names we loved.
And now we wander forth, and find
No friendly records there.
The morning tide effaced the words
We traced with so much care.
'Tis thus with all whose glory rests
Upon the sands of earth;
As vain is all the pomps of pride,
As vain the smiles of mirth.

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The ceaseless tide at intervals
Will rush o'er all the scene;
'Twill pass—and not a record then
Will tell where they have been!