Poems (Curwen)/The Loss of the Drummond Castle

by Annie Isabel Curwen

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.