How few of all the hearts that loved

How few of all the hearts that loved

Are grieving for thee now

and why should mine tonight be moved

With such a sense of woe

Too often thus when left alone

Where none my thoughts can see

Comes back a word a passing tone

From thy strange history

Sometimes I seem to see thee rise

A glorious child again

O fairly spread thy earthly sail

And fresh and pure and free

Was the first impulse of the gale

That urged life's wave for thee

Why did the pilot too confiding

Dream o'er that oceans foam

And trust in pleasures careless guiding

to bring his vessel home?

For well he knew what dangers frowned

What mists would gather dim

What rocks and shelves and sands lay round

Between his port and him

The very brightness of the sun

The splendour of the main

The wind that bore him wildly on

Should not have warned in vain

An anxious gazer from the shore

I marked the whitening wave

And wept the more

Because I could not save

It reeks not now when all is over

And yet my heart will be

A mourner still though friend and lover

Have both forgotten thee