Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing; br I look far out into the pregnant night, br Where I can hear the solemn booming gun br And catch the gleaming of a random light, br That tells me that the ship I seek br is passing, passing. br My tearful eyes my soul's deep hurt are glassing; br For I would hail and check that ship of ships. br I stretch my hands imploring, cry aloud, br My voice falls dead a foot from mine own lips, br And but its ghost doth reach that vessel, passing, passing.