The Sailor’s Grave.
A stately ship sails out to sea,
And her sailors sing right merrily
As they cheerily hoist the snowy sail
Which bends before the freshning gale.
But there is one who stands apart,
For song and jest he has no heart,
And his eyes are dim with unshed tears
As the fading shore slow disappears.
Now ’tis lost to sight, he breathes a sigh,
“My own, dear native land, good bye,
Farewell, loved ones on yonder shore
We part to meet, perchance no more.”
**********
The ocean rests in slumber grand,
And the ship is far out from the land;
All gilded in the radiant beams
Of the golden sun, her white sail gleams.
On the good ship’s deck the sailors pace,
A solemn fear on every face.
A stranger grim with chilling breath
Has come on board, his name is Death.
O brave young heart! that undismayed
Shrank not when death’s chill hand was laid
Upon thy lips, stilling their breath
Sealing them with the seal of death.
