Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child! Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart? When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled, The waters heave around me, and on high The winds lift up their voices: I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye. II. Once more upon the waters! yet once more! Though the strained mast should quiver as a reed, And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale, Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam to sail Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail. III. In my youth's summer I did sing of One, O'er which all heavily the journeying years Plod the last sands of life, where not a flower appears. IV. Since my young days of passion-joy, or pain, To me, though to none else, a not ungrateful theme. V. He, who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him; nor below Can love, or sorrow, fame, ambition, strife, |