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.