Bush, Olivia Ward
I have stood on the shore, and watched the waters surging land-ward, then receding ever in alternate motion. I have seen driftwood strewn along the sand, cast up by the restless waves.
I have heard the merry shouts of children, as they gathered, one by one, bits, for the driftwood fire which has warmed and cheered the lowly dwellings, scattered along shore, or perchance its gleaming blaze shining far out into the night has led some lone traveller to his home.
I have thought how oft these bits of driftwood are but the poor misshapen remnant of some bark wrecked on its homeward course and still the driftwood fire burns bright and still its warmth and glow cheers up Earth's dreary places.
These verses are but bits of driftwood cast up by the landward-surging and receding waters of adversity and prosperity, and the author has gathered them with the fond hope that some light shall gleam from these pages far out into the night of human perplexities, and brighten up the homeward way of some discouraged traveller.
OLIVIA WARD BUSH.