208
DIRGE AT SEA.
Sleep!—we give thee to the wave,
Red with life-blood from the brave,
Thou shalt find a noble grave.
Fare thee well!
Sleep! thy billowy field is won.
Proudly may the funeral gun,
Midst the hush at set of sun,
Boom thy knell!
Lonely, lonely is thy bed,
Never there may flower be shed,
Marble reared, or brother's head
Bowed to weep.
