Wrecked

The winds are singing a death-knell

Out on the main to-night;

The sky droops low — and many a bark

That sailed from harbors bright,

Like many an one before,

Shall enter port no more:

And a wreck shall drift to some unknown shore

Before to-morrow's light.

The clouds are hanging a death-pall

Over the sea to-night;

The stars are veiled — and the hearts that sailed

Away from harbors bright,

Shall sob their last for their quiet home —

And, sobbing, sink‘ neath the whirling foam

Before the morning's light.

The waves are weaving a death-shroud

Out on the main to-night;

Alas! the last prayer whispered there

By lips with terror white!

Over the ridge of gloom,

Not a star will loom!

God help the souls that will meet their doom

Before the dawn of light!

The breeze is singing a joy song

Over the sea to-day;

The storm is dead and the waves are red

With the flush of the morning's ray;

And the sleepers sleep, but beyond the deep

The eyes that watch for the ships shall weep

For the hearts they bore away.