In Gloucester wood the wild rose bloomed, and shed its sweets and died,
And dry and tawny grew the grass along the marshes wide.
The last stitch in my gown was set; I looked across the sea—
'Fly fast, oh, time, fly fast!' I said, 'and bring him home to me;
And I will deck my yellow hair and don my bridal gown,
The day the gallant fishing-fleet comes back to Gloucester town!'
"The rough skies darkened o'er the deep, loud blew the autumn gales;
With anxious eyes the fishers' wives watched for the home-bound sails
From Gloucester shore, and Rockport crags, lashed by the breakers dread,
From cottage doors of Beverly, and rocks of Marblehead.