A little homesick, and lone, and sad,
In spite of the morning gay and glad—
Saw, as she strolled, how the thieving tide
Had brought its plunder and scattered wide,
And behold, in seaweed carefully wound,
The porcelain tea-pot safe and sound!
When years had passed and the King’s demand
Roused the people of all the land,
And a ship’s cargo was put away
To steep at the bottom of Boston Bay,