70
captain edmonson charnley.
The Last Voyage—In Memoriam.
Captain Edmondson Charnley.
Over the sun-lit waters of the bay,
Under the blue and white of Sabbath skies,
Homeward, the Pilot Cutter makes her way,
On deck, asleep, a weary skipper lies.
The sportive waves around the vessel plays.
O'er head the flutt'ring flag at half-mast flies.
Under the blue and white of Sabbath skies,
Homeward, the Pilot Cutter makes her way,
On deck, asleep, a weary skipper lies.
The sportive waves around the vessel plays.
O'er head the flutt'ring flag at half-mast flies.
Soundly the skipper sleeps, the flapping sail
Disturbs him not, nor yet the creaking mast;
The rattling shrouds he hears not, nor the hail
Of friendly voices, when the anchor's cast,
For his barque has weathered its final gale
And the old skipper's last voyage is past.
Disturbs him not, nor yet the creaking mast;
The rattling shrouds he hears not, nor the hail
Of friendly voices, when the anchor's cast,
For his barque has weathered its final gale
And the old skipper's last voyage is past.
No adverse winds can check his progress where
No rocks obstruct, and no neap tides delay,
The tide is full, the balmy winds are fair
Which waft the spirit barque upon its way;
No mists arise, no gathering darkness There,
For in that region it is always day.
No rocks obstruct, and no neap tides delay,
The tide is full, the balmy winds are fair
Which waft the spirit barque upon its way;
No mists arise, no gathering darkness There,
For in that region it is always day.
O land! O promised land! Land of the blest!
We turn our wistful tear-dimned eyes to thee,
For life is but a troubled dream at best.
From which we wake when kind death sets us free,
And in thy clime the mariner may rest,
For there—'tis said "There shall be no more sea."
We turn our wistful tear-dimned eyes to thee,
For life is but a troubled dream at best.
From which we wake when kind death sets us free,
And in thy clime the mariner may rest,
For there—'tis said "There shall be no more sea."
