I wander down the silver strands
that line the endless seas.
I feel the warmth of crystal sands
and cherish all that breathes.
My heart, a solitary stone,
that knows no joys or griefs,
Except the touch of briney foam
that bathes the fragile reefs.
The purest star of evening fame
illuminates the shore.
The western sky is all aflame,
the toil of day is o'er.
The mystery of celestial lights
that gleam from East to West
are signals from immortal heights
adorning Angels' breasts.
The artful Hands, divine and dear,
that form the hallowed scenes,
are hands that cause the heart to cheer
with love's sweet gentle beams.
I never knew a better time
to thank the Lord of Love,
Or call to memory's fading mind
The gift of Light above.