Each morn was shouted, “pray;”
And prayer arose from all the ships,
As first in Yarmouth Bay.
Solo. Blew warm the breeze o’er Western seas,
Through Maytime morns and June,
Till hailed these souls the Isles of Shoals,
Low, ’neath the summer moon;
And as Cape Ann arose to view,
And Norman’s Woe they passed,
The wood-doves came the white mist through