A Story of Sorrow

You ask why I thus droop my head, Why pensive and sad I deplore? An joy from poor Anna is fled, My William, alas! is no more: These eyes dim and mournful appear, Which from his all their lustre did borrow; I must pause o'er my tale—drop a tear, For, alas! 'tis a story of sorrow.

I stood on the beach, while in view The bark toss'd, that brought him from far; The rain beat, the winds fiercely blew, The elements seem'd all at war: On a rock (the dire thought bids me weep) His ship split—no aid could they borrow; He immerg'd in the watery deep, Full, alas! is my story of sorrow.

Distracted! but prayers could I give, As he dash'd the big billows aside, Hope faintly breath'd forth, 'he'd survive,' But, fatigu'd, he sunk breathless—and dy'd: Depriv'd of my love, I complain, I his bride should have been on the morrow, But I'll plunge in the unsated main, And cure a heart bursting with sorrow.