The hearts that loved thee best grew still and cold.
Sleep sweetly, gentle child! though the loved tone
That twice twelve months had hushed thee to repose
Could give no answer to the tearful moan
That faintly from thy sea-moss pillow rose.
That night the arms that closely folded thee
Were the wet weeds that floated in the sea.
Sleep sweetly, gentle child! the cold, blue wave
Hath pitied the sad sighs the wild winds bore,
And from the wreck it held one treasure gave