Classic Poem

There were aching hearts in England,
Sad watchings through the day,
For a noble ship, the President ,
Upon her homeward way,
'Midst the wild Atlantic waters
The stormy ocean's prey! —

There were manly forms and daring
Within that stately bark;
And many a bosom beautiful
That Love had made its ark;
And lips that bloomed — 'till tempest gloomed —
And struck their beauty dark! —

Where the gulph-stream meets the soundings
With long terrific roar,
The ship was seen contending
The blast and billows o'er; —
But never human sight beheld
That fated vessel more!

From out the topmost beacon,
Through weary day and night,
The hardy watchmen steadily
Gaz'd o'er the billows' flight;
But not a wreck of mast or deck
Swept ever on their sight.

Upon that sea of sorrow
How many thoughts were tost! —
When, like a weary mariner,
Hope o'er those waters crost,
And left the heart to bear its part,
Or break — when all was lost! —

No tongue may herald tidings,
No human science show
That awful page of destiny,
That record dark of woe —
Engulf'd 'midst ocean's secrets
Ten thousand fathom low! —

Yet shall the stars, thou Ocean,
Their dying lustre shed;
Thy waves' expiring motion
Dry o'er their charnel-bed;
And Time yet see the mystery,
Incarnate with the dead.