They hurried to the garret ceiling, Six children and a lovely mother, But soon the deathly waves there stealing, Filled space, 'till all began to smother, And their doom was sealed; no ray of light, But a foaming flood was passing by, And darkness of that fearful night Had cast its shades o'er moon and sky.
They bent their way to the window pane, And the mother seized a floating board, And one of the band admission gained; A kiss, good-bye, and was heard no more. Six times, as the floating timbers passed, She placed them on, and a kiss, good-bye; But worst of all was the dear one last— A father's pet, with mischievous eye.
Just then a crash, and the building fell, And was swept away 'mid clash of sound; But she clung to the roof, which floated well, And swift away from the floating town, Out on the waves in the pitch of night, 'Mid shrieks and screams and dying groans, And not a lamp, nor a glimmering light, As buildings groaned with a hideous moan.
But away on the wings of the waves, With the star of Hope forever set, And just a span to the hissing grave, Where wrath of the waves its victim met. Down, down the wrathy current flying, Grinding, surging, hissing and roaring, Screaming, groaning, moaning and dying, The angry waves 'mid forests pouring.
On the distant shore a signal light, But the forest trees walked through the flood With clutching fingers and arms of might, Wrecking the crafts and the floating wood. A voice was heard on the wave-washed shore, And a signal light was gleaming bright, And her craft rushed 'mid din and roar, But was saved by men in pitch of night.