The morning shone with April on
A little silver ship at sea,
With happy sails, and bearing bales
To Panama from Tripoli,
And fortunately bound
She went without a sound.

Into the night, forlornly bright
There came a little ship of gold,
Without a name, she passed in flame,
With cargoes never to be told,
Out of a port unknown,
Swinging to death alone.