The fair-weather lights are gleaming
Across a tranquil main,
By beam and beam so bright they seem
A laughing, endless chain.
The foul-weather lights are few and far--
Nor flash nor leap nor fail--
But slowly burn where the billows churn
In the teeth of the driving gale.
_Oh the fair-weather lights o’er the sheltered bights
Are welcome sights to see--
But the foul-weather lights o’ the stormy nights,
Are the Lamps of the Years to be._