50
MAY ALLONBY.
The fisherman's girl lights the beacon,
Her sweet faith the storm cannot weaken,
Nor the crash of the incoming sea.
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.
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 morning
Men 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!
Men 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 timbers
The 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 her
As she thinks of him dead in the sea!
The 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 her
As she thinks of him dead in the sea!
The years have gone by like a vision,
But still in a fancy Elysian
She wanders the cold Hampton sands,—
Looking out o'er the lone waste of billows,
As they toss up their foamy white pillows
And woo her with phantom white hands!
But still in a fancy Elysian
She wanders the cold Hampton sands,—
Looking out o'er the lone waste of billows,
As they toss up their foamy white pillows
And woo her with phantom white hands!
