 | The Gloucester Mother |  |
WHEN Autumn winds are high
They wake and trouble me,
With thoughts of people lost
A-coming on the coast,
And all the ships at sea.
They wake and trouble me,
With thoughts of people lost
A-coming on the coast,
And all the ships at sea.
How dark, how dark and cold,
And fearful in the waves
Are tired folk who lie not still
And quiet in their graves:—
In moving waters deep,
That will not let men sleep
As they may sleep on any hill;
May sleep ashore till time is old,
And all the earth is frosty cold.—
Under the flowers a thousand springs
They sleep and dream of many things.
And fearful in the waves
Are tired folk who lie not still
And quiet in their graves:—
In moving waters deep,
That will not let men sleep
As they may sleep on any hill;
May sleep ashore till time is old,
And all the earth is frosty cold.—
Under the flowers a thousand springs
They sleep and dream of many things.
God bless them all who die at sea!
If they must sleep in restless waves,
God make them dream they are ashore,
With grass above their graves.
If they must sleep in restless waves,
God make them dream they are ashore,
With grass above their graves.
| The Gloucester Mother | |