At the piping of all hands, When the judgment-signal s spread When the islands and the lands And the seas give up their dead, And the South and North shall come; When the sinner is dismayed, And the just man is afraid, Then Heaven be thy aid, Poor Tom.
I saw two clouds at morning, Tinged with the rising sun, And in the dawn they floated on, And mingled into one. I thought that morning cloud was blest, It moved so sweetly to the West.
Epithalamium.
Note 1. Harriet Beecher Stowe: When winds are raging oer the upper ocean. [back]