James Thomas Fields,
To One Beneath the Waves
(1849)
“ But thou art slumbering where the foam Rolls madly o'er the sea.Alas! how soon our better years To tempest winds are blown, And all our hopes, and joys, and fears Alike are widely strown;— She rests in yonder village- mound, Who should have been thy bride, And thou art sleeping 'neath the sound Of ocean's flowing tide. ”
