May Allonby

Night has come down o'er the lone sea,The wild wind has risen to frenzy,—The spirits of Dread walk the shore,—Across the long stretch of the quicksands,And over the bleak, gloomy headlands,Is heard the billows' grim roar.

Oh, angry and treacherous ocean!Oh, "white-caps" in fiendish commotion!Be kind to the ships in your care!Be merciful to the bold rangers,Who've dared all your perils and dangers,Whose brave hearts never despair!

The fisherman's cot on the Boar's HeadIs light with the pitch-torch's blaze red,And it streams far over the lee.The fisherman's girl lights the beacon,Her sweet faith the storm cannot weaken,Nor the crash of the incoming sea.

There are wrecks on the ocean this dread night,Far over the wave shines the blue light,The minute-guns boom on the din.There are brave hearts in agony toiling;But, alas! all their wild efforts foiling,—The mad breakers hurry them in.

Out over the sands in the morningMen go at the first crimson dawning,Oh, fisherman's daughter, bewail!Thy lover, thy true, loyal lover,The pride of the fair town of Dover,Was lost in yesternight's gale!

She reads on the wreck's cast up timbersThe name of the bark she remembers,—The letters spell—May Allonby!For he named his taut craft in her honor.Oh, how the grief-chills creep upon herAs she thinks of him dead in the sea!

The years have gone by like a vision,But still in a fancy ElysianShe wanders the cold Hampton sands,—Looking out o'er the lone waste of billows,As they toss up their foamy white pillowsAnd woo her with phantom white hands!