For the lovely blue, was hid from her view,
By a black and mighty cloud!
She saw in each wave, a watery grave,
And again she sang aloud:
"But the clouds are rolling heavy,
Fitful gusts distend his sail;
See the whirlpool's foaming eddy,
Hear the seagull's mournful wail.
"Now his vessel greets the thunder,
Now she rests on ocean's bed,