Poems (Curwen)/The Loss of the Drummond Castle
The Loss of the Drummond Castle.
Midnight on the coast of France, Midnight on the soundless sea: Homeward bound, the good ship speeds, All hearts beating joyously; While the little ones below In their berths sleep peacefully.
Homeward bound! a few short hours, Then the voyage will be over; Morning's light will bring in sight The well-known cliffs of Dover; Soon warm lips will feel the kiss Of husband, wife, or lover.
Homeward bound! all hearts elate, As through the midnight gloom The ship on her mistaken course Rushes towards her doom—O, God! that they should come so far, Then find a watery tomb.
Was it God's will? or man's error? We shall never understand; Morning's light revealed the dead Cast on a foreign strand—But tended—O, thank Heaven for that— By Pity's gentle hand.
The kindly priest, who scrupled not To read his funeral rite Over our dead, has surely found Favour in Heaven's sight. O, what are creeds, unless men keep The lamp of love alight?
And those warm-hearted Bretons who Shed sympathetic tears Over the dead: for every tear God send them fruitful years; And bless the sunny land of France For this good deed of theirs.
And ye who sorrow for the dead— The lov'd ones homeward bound—Weep not, for they have reached the port Where anchorage sure is found; And now they wait to welcome you, When ye are homeward bound.