My father was a mariner, and from my earliest years,
I can remember night and day my mother’s prayers and tears.
I can remember how she sighed when blew the stormy gale;
And how for days she stood to watch the long-expected sail;
Hers was a patient, silent grief; but fears and long delay,
And wakeful nights and anxious days, were wearing her away.
And when the gusty winds were loud, and autumn’s leaves were red,
I watched with heavy heart beside my mother’s dying bed;
Just when her voice was feeblest, the neighbors came to say,
The ship was hailed an hour before, and then was in the bay.