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

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