Now the surf-rumble rides the midnight wind,
And grave patrols are on ocean edge.
Now soars the rocket where the billows grind,
Discerned too late, on sunken shoal or ledge.
To all that seek and find,
To all, alert and faithful in the night,
May there be Light!
On lonely headlands gleam the lamps that warn,
Star-steady, or ablink like dragon-eyes.
Govern your rays, or wake the giant horn