While The Billy BoilsSearch’Tis sunrise over Watson,Where I sailed out to sea,On that wild run to LondonThat wrecked and ruined me.The beauty of the morningOn bluff and point and bay,But the Lily of St LeonardsWas fairer than the day.
O Lily of St Leonards!And I was mad to roam—She died with loving words for meThree days ere I came home.
As fair as lily whiteness,As pure as lily gold,And bright with childlike brightnessAnd wise as worlds of old.Her heart for all was beatingAnd all hearts were her own—Like sunshine through the LilyHer purity was shown.
O Lily of St Leonards!My night is on the track,’Tis well you never lived to seeThe wreck that I came back.
A leaden sky shuts overA sobbing leaden sea,For the Lily of St LeonardsIs never more for me.I seek the wharf of OutwardWhere the deck no longer thrillsWhere she stood with great tears startingLike the lights on dark wet hills.
The world was all before meThe laurels on my brow—’Twas the world-star of the rovers,’Tis the Star of Exile now.