The girl sat under the beetling cliff,
Oh, the sweet singing out of the sea!
She watched the white sail of the dancing skiff;
She watched as it tacked and made the land,
She watched the sharp keel run on the sand,
And she thought, "He is coming to me, to me,"
As the sailor sprang from the gay boat's side
As it lay in the lap of the ebbing tide.
Oh, the sweet singing out of the sea!
The two sat under the great rock's shade,
Oh, the sweet singing out of the sea!
They saw the sunset glow and fade;
They heard the low waves' ceaseless chime,
To the vows that mocked at change and time,
As he swore by the steadfast tides to be
True and tender, through weal and woe,
And she blushed to the kiss he hallowed so;
Oh, the sweet singing out of the sea!
The girl sat under the cliff alone,
Oh, the sad singing out of the sea!
And the wind's low sob, and the waves' low moan,
Blent with the passionate weeping for him
Whose falsehood had made the fair world dim;
And she sighed, "What Was life left yet for me,
Whose joy is blighted, whose trust is fled,
Whose hope, like the rose, its leaves has shed?"
Oh, the sad singing out of the sea!
The great sea heard, as under the shade —
Oh, the sweet singing out of the sea ! —
Its moonlit ripples soft music made,
And it sang, "The world with its smiles and tears,
Changes for aye with the changing years;
Come, mourner, for rest and peace, to me.
Take the lesson I give through time and tide,
Do thy duty, nor reck of aught beside;"
Oh, the sweet singing out of the sea!