A golden day had faded in the west,
And mother Night descending from on high,
Was hushing Nature to her dreamy rest;
And ere another day broke o’er the sea,
Deep rolled the waves between my child and me.
I chanted o’er her lays of her old home—
And she, the stricken mourner by my side,
Mingled her tears with ocean’s moonlit foam,
And sent her wail upon the shoreless tide.
Oh! it was sad to hear that heart-wrung moan