II.

In the warm cloudy night we go From the motionless ship; Our lanterns feebly glow; Our oars drop and drip.

We land on the thin pale beach, The coral isle's round us; A glade of driven sand we reach; Our burial ground's found us.

There we dig him a grave, jesting; We know not his name. What heeds he who is resting, resting? Would I were the same!

Come away, it is over and done! Peace and he shall not sever, By moonlight nor light of the sun, For ever and ever!