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204 A messenger from other lands,
 * A beacon to hope and love.

No more, in the midnight tempest,
 * Will she mock the mounting sea,

Strong in her oaken timbers,
 * And her white sail’s bravery.

She hath borne, in days departed,
 * Warm hearts upon her deck;

Those hearts, like her, are mouldering now,
 * The victims, and the wreck

Of time, whose touch erases
 * Each vestige of all we love;

The wanderers, home returning,
 * Who gazed that deck above,

And they who stood to welcome
 * Their loved ones on that shore,

Are gone, and the place that knew them
 * Shall know them never more.

It was a night of terror,
 * In the autumn equinox,

When that gallant vessel found a grave
 * Upon the Peekskill rocks.