Some evenings you can see her slender form pacing to and fro up there on the Widow's Walk, and staring anxiously out to sea. She often pauses to wipe away a tear from her eye, for she has been recently told that her husband's ship was sunk earlier by Union forces off the Carolina coast.
Then she spies the tall sails, just on the twilight horizon. She jumps for joy, waving her arms, for it is his ship, she discovers as it draws nearer, and he is returning safely on the evening tide . . . back in the year 1863.
Then she spies the tall sails, just on the twilight horizon. She jumps for joy, waving her arms, for it is his ship, she discovers as it draws nearer, and he is returning safely on the evening tide . . . back in the year 1863.
