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(Excerpt)
HER side is in the water, | |
| Her keel is in the sand, | |
| And her bowsprit rests on the low gray rock | |
| That bounds the sea and land. | |
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| Her deck is without a mast, | 5 |
| And sand and shells are there, | |
| And the teeth of decay are gnawing her planks, | |
| In the sun and the sultry air. | |
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| No more on the river’s bosom, | |
| When sky and wave are calm, | 10 |
| And the clouds are in summer quietness, | |
| And the cool night-breath is balm, | |
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| Will she glide in the swan-like stillness | |
| Of the moon in the blue above, | |
| A messenger from other lands, | 15 |
| A beacon to hope and love. | |
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| No more, in the midnight tempest, | |
| Will she mock the mounting sea, | |
| Strong in her oaken timbers, | |
| And her white sail’s bravery. | 20 |
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| She hath borne, in days departed, | |
| Warm hearts upon her deck; | |
| Those hearts, like her, are mouldering now, | |
| The victims, and the wreck | |
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| Of time, whose touch erases | 25 |
| Each vestige of all we love; | |
| The wanderers, home returning, | |
| Who gazed that deck above, | |
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| And they who stood to welcome | |
| Their loved ones on that shore, | 30 |
| Are gone, and the place that knew them | |
| Shall know them nevermore. * * * * * | |
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