The windows rattle  in their frames;
  Without, the wild winds moan,
And fitful leap the red fire's flames,
  As that young wife sits alone;
As she rocks her baby boy to sleep,
  And sings to the winds as by they sweep,
“His home-bound sails, O fair winds, track,
  “That he his boy may see!
“Blow — blow, sweet winds, and speed him back
  “To baby dear and me!”

Through a cloudy sky the gale blows high,
  And the schooner leaps along,
And the captain seems, as the winds howl by,
  To hear in the gusts a song;
As foaming past the surges fly,
  He seems to hear a song go by,
“His home-bound sails, O fair winds, track,
  “That he his boy may see!
“Blow — blow, sweet winds, and speed him back
  “To baby dear and me!”