Classic Poem

Give me a lonely seat,
Where she reposes,
Where the rude billows beat,
As the day closes,
Where the waves on the shore,
White with commotion,
Raise the loud-pealing roar
Over the ocean.

There I would sadly rest
On my cold pillow,
There seek to soothe my breast
Under the willow;
But, O my Mary dear!
Parted for ever,
Comfort I cannot hear,
Never, O, never!

Oft when the silver beam
Kisses the billow,
Oft shall my sorrow stream
Under the willow;
And though the midnight storm
Howls o'er the ocean,
Still I shall view thy form,
Rapt in emotion.

Billows are roaring,
And ocean is swelling,
I am deploring,
My death-bell is knelling.
O, in the stormy main,
Loving for ever,
When can we part again?
Never, O, never!

Oft shall the mariner,
Ploughing the billow,
Start from his slumber
Of peace on his pillow;
Then, while the moonbeam
Is silvering the ocean,
And the wave tosses him
With its light motion, —

Then shall he view us glide,
Like a bright vision,
Over the heaving tide,
Sweetly Elysian.
O, can the stormy main
Hearts so fond sever?
O, can we part again?
Never, O, never!