Chapter IV

'Neath the waves the sun is going,
With bright hues the sky is glowing,
Twilight o'er the earth is stealing,
Far-off evening bells are pealing:
Thee I think of, Margaretta.

On the rocky crag I'm lying,
Stranger in a strange land sighing;
Round my feet the waves are dancing,
Through my soul float dreams entrancing:
Thee I think of, Margaretta.