Post by Administrator on Nov 6, 2020 7:48:36 GMT
THE MERCHANT NAVY
The sea is full of dead men; their spittle is the spray.
Their cold breath is the vapour that blows silently away.
Their laughter is the frenzy of the surf upon the sand.
But their sadness is in parting so, without a waving hand
They lie so quiet; sleeping for their bed is cool and wide
Their fame comes home to landsmen on the flooding of the tide.
We are ringed around with heroes who were common men and kind
Their stones are seaweed covered, their names are hard to find.
We know them all in England, for they are kin of ours,
They are the more remembered - They had no wreaths of flowers.
No funeral processions in the muffled mourning air.
No carriages, no horses, no silent throngs were there.
Just the sea upon their eyelids that will do for tears unshed
While our hearts are filled with gladness and with thankfulness instead.
That there will be so many who did not begrudge the cost
Of the gift they gave in serving us, who live the lives they lost
Author unknown.
The sea is full of dead men; their spittle is the spray.
Their cold breath is the vapour that blows silently away.
Their laughter is the frenzy of the surf upon the sand.
But their sadness is in parting so, without a waving hand
They lie so quiet; sleeping for their bed is cool and wide
Their fame comes home to landsmen on the flooding of the tide.
We are ringed around with heroes who were common men and kind
Their stones are seaweed covered, their names are hard to find.
We know them all in England, for they are kin of ours,
They are the more remembered - They had no wreaths of flowers.
No funeral processions in the muffled mourning air.
No carriages, no horses, no silent throngs were there.
Just the sea upon their eyelids that will do for tears unshed
While our hearts are filled with gladness and with thankfulness instead.
That there will be so many who did not begrudge the cost
Of the gift they gave in serving us, who live the lives they lost
Author unknown.