The winds are singing a death-knell Out on the main to-night； The sky droops³ low —— and many a bark That sailed from harbors bright, Like many an one before, Shall enter port no more： And a wreck¹ 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 sob⁴ their last for their quiet home —— And, sobbing⁵, sink 'neath the whirling foam⁶ Before the morning's light.

    The waves are weaving a death-shroud Out on the main to-night； Alas⁷！ the last prayer whispered there By lips with terror white！ Over the ridge⁸ of gloom, Not a star will loom⁹！ God help the souls that will meet their doom¹⁰ Before the dawn of light！