Up from the poor man's cottage--
Forth from the mansion door;
Sweeping across the waters,
And echoing 'long the shore;
Caught by the morning breezes--
Borne on the evening gale;
Cometh a voice of mourning,
A sad and solemn wail.
Lost on the Lady Elgin!
Sleeping to wake no more!
Number'd in that three hundred,
Who fail'd to reach the shore!
Oh! 'tis the cry of children,
Weeping for parents gone;
Children who slept at evening,
But orphans woke at dawn.
Sisters for brothers weeping,
Husbands for missing wives--
Such are the ties dis-sever'd
With those three hundred live.
Staunch was the noble steamer--
Precious the freight she bore;
Gaily she loosed her cables,
A few short hours before.
Grandly she swept out harbor,
Joyfully ran her bell;
Little thought we, 'ere morning,
'Twould toll so sad a knell.
Back to Henry Clay Work
To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.