The Sailor's Grave


E. NASON &CO. SONG PUBLISHERS, 120 Fulton Street, New York

The sailor’s grave

Our bark was far, far from the land,
When the fairest of our gallant band
Grew deadly pale, and waned away,
Like the twilight of an Autumn day.
We had watched him through long hours of pain;
Our cares were great, our hopes in vain:
Death’s stroke he gave no coward’s alarm:
But he smiled, and died in his messmate’s arms.

We had no costly winding-sheet;
We placed two round-shots at his feet;
He lays in his hammock, as snug and as sound
As a king in his long shroud, marble-bound.
We proudly decked his funeral vest
With the Starry Flag upon his breast!
We gave him this, as a badge of the brave,
And then he was fit for a sailor’s grave.

Our voices broke, and hearts turned weak;
Oft tears were seen on the brownest cheek;
The quiver played on the lip of pride,
As we lowered him down the ship’s dark side;
Then a splash and a plunge, and our task was o’er,
And the billows rolled as they rolled before,
And many wild prayers hallow’d the waves,
And he sank beneath a sailor’s grave.

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