John William Inchbold (1830–1888)

IS it deep sleep, or is it rather death?

Rest anyhow it is, and sweet is rest:—

No more the doubtful blessing of the breath;

Our God hath said that silence is the best,

And thou art silent as the pale, round moon,

And near thee is our birth’s great mystery:—

Alas, we knew not thou wouldst go so soon!

We cannot tell where sky is lost in sea,

But only find life’s bark to come and go,

By wondrous Nature’s hidden force impelled,—

Then melts the wake in sea, and none shall know

For certain which the course the vessel held;—

The lessening ship by us no more is seen,

And sea and sky are just as they have been.