As gathering yet new strength they fiercely beat upon the shore,
Yet, midst the wild and fearful din sweet sleep with visions bright
Hovered around their peaceful couch throughout that stormy night.
And in hope’s glowing rosy tints painted the blissful hour
When once again the wanderer’s feet shall cross his mother’s door.
Far o’er that raging ocean and amidst old Scotia’s hills,
Ah, many a kind and loving heart that night with rapture thrills.
As Hope, delusive, marks the time when prosperous and gay
Their absent loved ones shall return from o’er the distant sea;
That wished-for time will never come, for on New England’s coast