On Leaving the Coast of Nova Scotia

I STAND alone at midnight on the deck,
And watch with eager eye the sinking shore
Which I may view, it may be, nevermore ;
For there is tempest, battle, fire, and wreck,
And Ocean hath her share of each of these,
Attest it, thousand rotting argosies,
Wealth-laden, sunken in the southern seas !
And who can say that evermore these feet
Shall tread thy soil, Acadia ? Who can say
That evermore this heart of mine shall greet
The loved to whom it sighs adieu to-day ?
Our sail is set for countries far away ;
Our sail is set, and now is no retreat,
Though Ocean should but lure, like Beauty, to betray !