And launched on the waters, so lonely and wide,
That rapidly hurried away from the land.
“I’ll find him! I’ll find him!” she shouted in glee,
“His tent must be pitched in some flowery dell
In the land of the sachems beyond the blue sea
Where now he is waiting to welcome Gazelle.”
The full moon was nearing the noonday of night,
The waves sang the songs she had loved when a child,
And her young, happy heart was elate with delight
As they bore her away from her dear native wild.