Where is the maiden, young, tender, and fair?

Where is the grandsire, of silvery hair?

Where is the glory of womanhood's time?

Where the warm blood of man's vigor and prime?

Storms of the ocean, that bellow and pour,

Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?

Birds of the ocean, that scream through the gale,

What have ye seen of a wind-beaten sail?