| |
| BLUE gulf all around us, | |
| Blue sky overhead— | |
| Muster all on the quarter, | |
| We must bury the dead! | |
| |
| It is but a Danish sailor, | 5 |
| Rugged of front and form; | |
| A common son of the forecastle, | |
| Grizzled with sun and storm. | |
| |
| His name, and the strand he hailed from | |
| We know, and there ’s nothing more! | 10 |
| But perhaps his mother is waiting | |
| In the lonely Island of Fohr. | |
| |
| Still, as he lay there dying, | |
| Reason drifting awreck, | |
| “’T is my watch,” he would mutter, | 15 |
| “I must go upon deck!” | |
| |
| Aye, on deck, by the foremast! | |
| But watch and lookout are done; | |
| The Union Jack laid o’er him, | |
| How quiet he lies in the sun! | 20 |
| |
| Slow the ponderous engine, | |
| Stay the hurrying shaft; | |
| Let the roll of the ocean | |
| Cradle our giant craft; | |
| Gather around the grating, | 25 |
| Carry your messmate aft! | |
| |
| Stand in order, and listen | |
| To the holiest page of prayer! | |
| Let every foot be quiet, | |
| Every head be bare— | 30 |
| The soft trade-wind is lifting | |
| A hundred locks of hair. | |
| |
| Our captain reads the service, | |
| (A little spray on his cheeks) | |
| The grand old words of burial, | 35 |
| And the trust a true heart seeks:— | |
| “We therefore commit his body | |
| To the deep”—and, as he speaks, | |
| |
| Launched from the weather railing, | |
| Swift as the eye can mark, | 40 |
| The ghastly, shotted hammock | |
| Plunges, away from the shark, | |
| Down, a thousand fathoms, | |
| Down into the dark! | |
| |
| A thousand summers and winters | 45 |
| The stormy Gulf shall roll | |
| High o’er his canvas coffin; | |
| But, silence to doubt and dole:— | |
| There ’s a quiet harbor somewhere | |
| For the poor aweary soul. | 50 |
| |
| Free the fettered engine, | |
| Speed the tireless shaft, | |
| Loose to’gallant and topsail, | |
| The breeze is fair abaft! | |
| |
| Blue sea all around us, | 55 |
| Blue sky bright o’erhead— | |
| Every man to his duty, | |
| We have buried our dead! | |
| |
