---

Where the sun looks cold and shorn


Where the day is long and lorn


Ah! too long, so cold and dreary,


Long and lorn, and dim and weary

All is frozen still and fast


In that death-land, wild and vast;

Down the darksome northern ocean;


From that darksome northern main,


Over desolation endless,


A region void and friendless

Wrought from uttermost despair

Drear, immeasurable gloom!


One vast shroud, without a tomb,


What a band! and what a doom!

Whether life so closed behind them


That the living never can find them,


Whether kindly, death received them,


And from utter woe relieved them

All is frozen still and fast


In that death-land, wild and vast;

They are the lost ones

They are the lost ones

We are the lost ones

We are the lost ones