THE WRECKED.
The sun went down as gorgeously,
Wrapped in his crimson vest,
As though the lamps of night were placed
As watchers o'er his rest;
But with the shades of midnight came
The storm-king's clarion blast,
And tempests gathered at his call,
And whirlwinds hurried past.
There was a sound of rushing winds,
A sound of hastening waves—
Strong waters stretched their arms to snatch
Bright spoils from ocean's caves;
Then came the crash!—the long, wild shriek!—
The dash of waves on the white cheek—
The aimless clutch—the smothered prayer!—
And wild winds sung a requiem there.
The morning woke, serene and bright;
The sunlight on the deep
The sunlight on the deep
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