A stalwart man was he.
John White leaped from his vessel’s prow,
And joy was in his eye;
For his daughter’s smile had lured him on
Amid the stormiest sky.
Where were the roofs that flecked the green!
The smoke-wreaths curling high?
He calls—he shouts—the cherished names,
But Echo makes reply.
“Where art thou, Ellinor! my child!