Cold is the sea, but colder yet
Is the brow that its waters lave,
And the tide is still in the breast that heaves
To the rock of the restless wave:
The bloom is gone from his glowing cheek
And the love from his pleasant eye,
And none there heed on his pallid lips
The smile that could never die.
Oh, I pine, beloved, to hear once more
Thy cheerful loving tone,