"She wandered hopeless to the strand,
And, hopeless, westward waved her hand."]

She heard the steamship's iron bell;
Turned to the shore, but faltered, fell--
For ocean steamers do not wait
On love--her pride gave way too late.

"Too late!" she heard it rise and swell,
Tolled by the iron steamer's bell;
Told by the mocking voice of Fate,
Rung through her heart, "too late!" "too late!"

And now, when from that outward bound,
Defiant distance brought no sound,
She wandered hopeless to the strand,
And, hopeless, westward waved her hand.

The steamer's black smoke drifting far
Rose up and hid the evening star:
A bitter symbol of that strife
Between love's day-star and her life.

In the late gloaming's purple gloom
She wandered home; but half the bloom
Had faded from her cheek and lips:
Love's orient was in eclipse.

* * * * *

* * * * *

"The ship went down!" such message crossed
The lightning wire, and all were lost
Save Captain Gray, and two or three;
Among them was not Graham Lee.

From Daisy's hand the paper fell;
No cry she uttered, but a swell
Of anguish through her heart did sweep,
Bearing it downward to the deep.

As the green pallor of a storm
A summer landscape doth deform,
Making a livid shadow grow
Athwart the noon-day's ruddy glow,

Across the future once so fair,
So ripe with joy for Daisy Dare,
Fate's cruel sickle swept, and left
Life of its golden harvest reft.

[Illustration]

[Illustration:

"Turning her white cheek from the light,
Clasping her small hands fiercely tight!"]

[Illustration]

PART II.

Women are deemed cold, careless, proud,
Who suffer bravely in a crowd;
Smiles flash from hearts in sorrow set,
As gleams from jewels edged with jet.

Some months had passed--it was not long--
When Daisy stood amid a throng,
Turning her white cheek from the light,
Clasping her small hands fiercely tight!

For she had heard two brave me