The Winds Are Singing A Death-Knell Out On The Main To-Night; The Sky Droops Low -- And Many A Bark That Sailed From Harbors Bright, Like Many An One Before, Shall Enter Port No More: And A Wreck Shall Drift To Some Unknown Shore Before To-Morrow'S Light. The Clouds Are Hanging A Death-Pall Over The Sea To-Night; The Stars Are Veiled -- And The Hearts That Sailed Away From Harbors Bright, Shall Sob Their Last For Their Quiet Home -- And, Sobbing, Sink 'Neath The Whirling Foam Before The Morning'S Light. The Waves Are Weaving A Death-Shroud Out On The Main To-Night; Alas! The Last Prayer Whispered There By Lips With Terror White! Over The Ridge Of Gloom, Not A Star Will Loom! God Help The Souls That Will Meet Their Doom Before The Dawn Of Light! * * * * * The Breeze Is Singing A Joy Song Over The Sea To-Day; The Storm Is Dead And The Waves Are Red With The Flush Of The Morning'S Ray; And The Sleepers Sleep, But Beyond The Deep The Eyes That Watch For The Ships Shall Weep For The Hearts They Bore Away.