The masts are gone, the timbers creak,
All work of mortal hands is weak;
“Oh, God! Oh, God! she’s sprung a leak,”
Each eye is dimmed and blanched each cheek,
And on each ear, a funeral knell,
Falls the note of the tolling bell.
3.
The boats are swamped; in wild despair
Men cry aloud or bend in prayer;
The poor ship groans, shrieks fill the air;