When the day comes to weigh anchor off this stand; A vessel does leave this haven for a dark land. As she sails silently as if numanned; Not a hand nor a handkerchief is fanned. Sorrowed with this trip are those on the quay; Wet-eyed they gaze at dim horizon dolefully. Poor hearts! This is not the last ship departing; Nor for the lonesome life is it the last sting: In vain will the loving and beloved wait; For the return of those that passed the strait. Happy must they have been with their set; Though years have elapsed, none's back as yet.