Where the solemn waves the whole day long

Seem saying, "Never! Never!"

As they creep to the feet of the hollow cliffs,

Fall back, roll in, forever,

There stands a light-house, white and tall,

That like the house in parable

Stands "on a rock," and braves the shock

When tempests beat and torrents fall.

Ghost-like at early dawn it looms

Above the gray cold ocean;

And, dull and chill, stands gloomy still

When wakes all else to motion.

But when the evening shadows sink,

And all the lonesome stony coast

Is lost to sight, while through the night

Drives in the storm-clouds black as ink,

'T is then that from that silent pile

Darts far a ruddy dawning,

Lighting the gloom, where the breakers boom,

In priceless, ceaseless warning!

—F. H. COSTELLOW.