 | The pink book |  |
11
“CROSSING THE BAR.”
I may not live as he lived, grand and pure,
Nor die as he died, in the grey moonlight,
Laurell'd, and lov'd, and absolutely sure
Of calms more calm than compassed him that night.
Nor die as he died, in the grey moonlight,
Laurell'd, and lov'd, and absolutely sure
Of calms more calm than compassed him that night.
But at the end of travail I shall chance
To where those wan ships be,
And go aboard without much circumstance,
And so put out to sea.
To where those wan ships be,
And go aboard without much circumstance,
And so put out to sea.
The bar will moan, the bitter foam-flake fly
Blindly along the dark,
And no one pace the shore to say good-bye
When I embark.
Blindly along the dark,
And no one pace the shore to say good-bye
When I embark.
And for the Pilot, may His arm be strong
To bear my frail craft far
Beyond the shoal of being, and the long,
Sad moaning of the bar.
To bear my frail craft far
Beyond the shoal of being, and the long,
Sad moaning of the bar.
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