1.
My song 'neath thy lattice, my barque on the wave,
I shall soon the rough storms of the cold ocean brave;
Ere the morn, each glad scene will have faded from sight,
And wilt thou no hear, love, my mournful good night?
Good night, love, good night, from the hilltops the breeze,
Wooes the quivering leaves of the old forest trees;
As the stars from their thrones look so mockingly bright,
And smile as they list to our mournful good night.

2.
When others shall kneel at thy beautiful shrine,
And glad voices mingle their soft tones with thine,
Wilt thou think 'mid the songs of the gay and the light
Of the heart-broken wanderer's mournful good night?
Good night, love, good night-- there is waiting for me,
As trusty a barque as e'er rode the wild sea;
She hears me! she smiles like a seraph so bright
And whispers "Return on the morrow-- good night!"

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