THE WRECK OF THE POCAHONTAS.
I lit the lamps in the light-house tower,
For the sun dropped down and the day was dead;
They shone like a glorious clustered flower,—
Ten golden and five red.
For the sun dropped down and the day was dead;
They shone like a glorious clustered flower,—
Ten golden and five red.
Looking across, where the line of coast
Stretched darkly, shrinking away from the sea,
The lights sprang out at its edge,—almost
They seemed to answer me!
Stretched darkly, shrinking away from the sea,
The lights sprang out at its edge,—almost
They seemed to answer me!
O warning lights! burn bright and clear,
Hither the storm comes! Leagues away
It moans and thunders low and drear,—
Burn till the break of day!
Hither the storm comes! Leagues away
It moans and thunders low and drear,—
Burn till the break of day!
Good-night! I called to the gulls that sailed
Slow past me through the evening sky;
And my comrades, answering shrilly, hailed
Me back with boding cry.
Slow past me through the evening sky;
And my comrades, answering shrilly, hailed
Me back with boding cry.
