There, seemingly heedless of all around,
With the sea-damps on his cheek,
Stands Wolfe — lo, he turns toward the new-mown ground,
And beckons as he would speak !
" To-morrow's the sabbath, the day of rest,"
Said the old man grave and mild,
" Your hay, if with sunshine again we're blest,
Will make as it lieth piled.
" Ye may sleep to-night without care or fear ;
I will watch the wind and tide ;
Should they threaten your harvest, ye shall hear
My warning echo wide."
The labor is ended, and one by one
They go to their quiet homes ;
From the snowy flocks each calleth his own,
Ere the misty darkness comes.