“All is well when father goes,”
Softly murmurs little Rose,
Listening to the breaker’s moan,
As she wends her way alone
Up the cliff-side to her home.
Thro’ the night the storm-bells toll,
And she hears the thunder’s roll,
Sees across the heaven’s black
The red lightning’s zigzag track;
Still, “I know he will come back!”