Verse 1: O, well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! Chorus: Break, break, break! On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. Break, break, break! At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. [instrumental solo] Verse 2: And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still! Chorus: Break, break, break! On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. Break, break, break! At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. [instrumental solo] Verse 3: O, well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! [outro]
