Over the pathless deep
A thousand miles away,
Where spicy breezes sleep
To wake at shut of day,
A gallant ship went down--
A thousand fathoms down,
Beneath the waters blue--
Ships, passengers, and crew. No eye beheld the wreck
Save the All-seeing Eye;
But, from the crowded deck
Went up a fearful cry,
Ere to their nameless graves
Beneath the pitiless waves,
Five hundred and a score
That foundering vessel bore. "No tidings!" rang the press;
"No tidings of the ship!"
A city paused in mute distress,
And whitened every lip;
No tidings? Can it be,
A ship went down to sea
And shall return no more
To homeward port, or shore? "No tidings!" day by day
The clanking press rung out;
Thus swept the months away;
A year of awful doubt.
"No tidings!" nevermore
To port on homeward shore,
Will that good ship return,
To comfort those who mourn! And thus for many a bark,
With its immortal freight,
In chill suspense and dark
Shall men in anguish wait,
The while they sadly say--
"Alas! They sailed away
Over the pathless main
And come not back again!" Lost--lost at sea! And yet,
I see their phantom shapes
With gleaming sails all set,
Doubling the shadowy capes;
The capes that fade away,
Like shades at shut of day,
Into the waste of Night!
Into the utter Night!