A single sail is bleaching brightly Upon the waves caressing bland, What seeks it in a stranger country? Why did it leave its native strand?
When winds pipe high, load roar the billows And with a crashing bends the mast, It does not shun its luckless fortune, Nor haste to port before the blast.
To-day the sea is clear as azure, The sun shines gaily, faint the wind-- But it revolting, looks for tempest, And dreams in storms its peace to find!