Wild wintry wind, storm through the night, 
Dash the black clouds against the sky, 
Hiss through the billows seething white, 
Fling the rock-surf in spray on high. 

Hurl the high seas on harbour bars, 
Madden them with thy havock-shriek 
Against the crimson beacon-stars -- 
Thy rage no more can make me weak. 

The ship rides safely in the bay, 
The ship that held my hope in her -- 
Whirl on, wild wind, in thy wild fray, 
We hear our whispers through the stir.