With face against the pane, Making moan, making moan. To and fro, to and fro, Till it seems like some old crone Wringing, as she stands, Her gaunt and palsied hands; With face against the pane, Set the table, maiden Mabel, And make the cabin warm; Is out there in the storm; And your father-you are weeping! O Mabel, timid Mabel, Go spread the supper table, And set the tea a-steeping. Your lover's heart is brave, His boat is stanch and tight; And your father knows the perilous reef That makes the water white. But Mabel, Mabel darling, With face against the pane, Looks out across the night At the Beacon in the rain. The heavens are veined with fire! The solemn church bell tolls But no sexton sounds the knell As the wind goes tearing by! How it tolls for the souls Of the sailors on the sea! God pity wives and sweethearts And pity little Mabel, With face against the pane. A boom!-the lighthouse gun! See! a rocket cleaves the sky From the Fort-a shaft of light! See! it fades, and, fading, leaves Golden furrows on the night! What made Mabel's cheek so pale? What made Mabel's lips so white? Did she see the helpless sail That, tossing here and there, Like a feather in the air, Went down and out of sightDown, down, and out of sight? O, watch no more, no more, With face against the pane; You can not see the men that drown By the Beacon in the rain! From a shoal of richest rubies Breaks the morning clear and cold; And the angel of the village spire,N Frost-touched, is bright as gold. Four ancient fishermen, In the pleasant autumn air, With something in their hands,- Ah, so ghastly in the light, With seaweed in their hair! O ancient fishermen, · Go up to yonder cot! You'll find a little child, With face against the pane, |