Out on its knoll of granite gray,
Old Execution rears its ghostly shaft,
And thro' the night and thro' the day
Speaks cheer to passing craft;
While in the sun they see it gleam
Upon the horizon, miles afar,
And in the dark its changeful beam
Flames out a guiding star.
From year to year, thro' calm and gale,
Across the Sound its warning flare is cast
It cries "All's well!" to steam and sail
And guides them safely past.
One day it hides its form in haze
And seems to sentinel some mystic strand;
The next, it glories in the blaze
Of morning's crimson brand.
And now across the stormy tide
It spires against the sandy bluff, and shows
The front of one who will abide
The shock of lusty blows.
Along its reef the surges roll,
And white with repulse rise and fling their froth
Like snow across the rocky knoll,
Then burst in foamy wrath.
And there it stands, fearless, sedate,
Like some brave knight who scorns to couch his lance
Against the churls, but with his weight
Bears back their wild advance.