Lost At Sea

Lost at sea, with all on board!
No one saw their sinking sail,
No one heard their dying wail,
Heard them calling on the Lord--
Lost at sea, with all on board.

Till the sea gives up its dead,
There they lie in quiet sleep,
And the voices of the deep
Sound unheeded overhead,
Till the sea gives up its dead.

Robert Fuller Murray

Robert Fuller Murray was a Scottish poet known for his lyrical and expressive poetry. Born on December 26, 1863, in Roxbury, Massachusetts, he moved to Scotland at a young age. Despite a short life, ending on April 15, 1894, Murray left a significant mark with his works, which often reflected themes of nature and human emotion. His poetry is characterized by its elegance and depth of feeling. Murray's influence remained through posthumous publications and collections of his poetry.

Robert Fuller Murray

Fickle Summer

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

After Many Days

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

Greek Title

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

A Criticism Of Critics

Robert Fuller Murray, Simple Poetry

English

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A Death At Sea. (Coral Sea, Australia.)

I.


Dead in the sheep-pen he lies,
    Wrapped in an old brown sail.
The smiling blue sea and the skies
    Know not sorrow nor wail.

Dragged up out of the hold,
    Dead on his last way home,
Worn-out, wizened, a Chinee old, -
    O he is safe - at home!

Brother, I stand not as these
    Staring upon you here.
One of earth's patient toilers at peace
    I see, I revere!


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 hi...

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

The Missing Ship.

She left the port in gallant style,
    With sails and streamers full and free!
I watched her course for many a mile
    Far out upon the distant sea!
At dusk she lessened to a speck,
    And then I could not trace her more!
Sad hearts were beating on her deck,
    Sad hearts were beating on the shore.

Two of the outward bound I knew,
    One beautiful, the other brave--
The master worthy, and the crew
    Born to contend with wind and wave:
For travel some, and some for gain,
    And some for health had gone abroad;
Our prayers were with them on the main,
    God-speed the ship and all on board!

That vessel never reached the land!
    No tidings of her ever came!
Those who beheld her leave the strand,
    For years in anguish heard ...

George Pope Morris

Out of the Depths

                Lost!    Lost!    Lost!
The cry went up from a sea --
The waves were wild with an awful wrath,
Not a light shone down on the lone ship's path;
                The clouds hung low:
                Lost!    Lost!    Lost!
Rose wild from the hearts of the tempest-tossed.

                Lost!    Lost!    Lost!
The cry floated over the waves --
Far over the pitiless waves;
It smote on the dark and it rended the clouds;
The billows below them were weaving white shrouds
        Out of the foam of the surge,
        And the wind-voices chanted a dirge:
                Lost!    Lost!    Lost!
Wailed wilder the lips of the tempest-tossed.

                Lost!    Lost!    Lost!
Not the sign of a hope was nigh,
In the sea, in the ai...

Abram Joseph Ryan

The Last Chantey

"And there was no more sea."



Thus said The Lord in the Vault above the Cherubim
Calling to the Angels and the Souls in their degree:
"Lo! Earth has passed away
On the smoke of Judgment Day.
That Our word may be established shall We gather up the sea?"

Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners:
"Plague upon the hurricane that made us furl and flee!
But the war is done between us,
In the deep the Lord hath seen us,
Our bones we'll leave the barracout', and God may sink the sea!"

Then said the soul of Judas that betray]\ed Him:
"Lord, hast Thou forgotten Thy covenant with me?
How once a year I go
To cool me on the floe?
And Ye take my day of mercy if Ye take away the sea!"

Then said the soul of the Angel of the Off-shore...

Rudyard

A Burial At Sea.

The shore hath blent with the distant skies,
O'er the bend of the crested seas,
And the leaning ship in her pathway flies,
On the sweep of the freshened breeze.

Swift be its flight! for a dying guest
It bears across the billow,
And she fondly sighs in her native West
To find a peaceful pillow.

There, o'er the tide, her kindred sleep,
And she would sleep beside them
It may not be! for the sea is deep,
And the waves the waves divide them!

It may not be! for the flush is flown,
That lighted her lily cheek
'Twas the passing beam, ere the sun goes down.
Life's last and loveliest streak.

'Tis gone, and a dew is o'er her now
The dew of the mornless eve
No morrow will shine on that pallid brow,
For the spirit hath ta'en its leave...

Samuel Griswold Goodrich

In Time Of Sorrow

Despair is in the suns that shine,
    And in the rains that fall,
This sad forsaken soul of mine
    Is weary of them all.

They fall and shine on alien streets
    From those I love and know.
I cannot hear amid the heats
    The North Sea's freshening flow

The people hurry up and down,
    Like ghosts that cannot lie;
And wandering through the phantom town
    The weariest ghost am I.

Robert Fuller Murray