Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain.
“Come back, come back”; behold with straining mast
And swelling sail, behold her steaming fast;
With one new sun to see her voyage o’er,
With morning light to touch her native shore,
“Come back, come back.”
“Come back, come back”; across the flying foam,
We hear faint far-off voices call us home,