Like galleon flying a picaroon,
Along the edge the ship-shap'd moon
Leadeth a star across the sea
To the cloudy harbor under her lee.
With her splendid lading of golden light
She seems to dread the pirate Night;
With puffing sails and fretful oars
She steereth and speedeth for purple shores.
She will anchor to-night beneath the fort
Whose grim guns guard the cloudy port,
Where sound and safe from picaroon
Rides many an olden and golden moon.