Comrades, comrades, have me buried
Like a warrior of the North.
Lower me the long-boat, stay me
In your arms, and bear me forth;
Lay me in the sheets and row me,
With the tiller in my hand,
Row me in below the beacon
Where my sea-dogs used to land.
Has your captain lost his cunning
After leading you so far?
Row me your last league, my sea-kings;
It is safe within the bar.
Shoulder me and house me hillward,
Where the field-lark makes his bed,
So the gulls can wheel above me,
All day long when I am dead;
Where the keening wind can find me
With the April rain for guide,
And come crooning her old stories
Of the kingdoms of the tide.
Comrades, comrades, have me buried
Like a warrior of the sun;
I have carried my sealed orders
Till the last command is done.
Kiss me on the cheek for courage,
(There is none to greet me home,)
Then farewell to your old lover
Of the thunder of the foam;
For the grass is full of slumber
In the twilight world for me,
And my tired hands are slackened
From their toiling on the sea.
OUTBOUND
A lonely sail in the vast sea-room,
I have put out for the port of gloom.
The voyage is far on the trackless tide,
The watch is long, and the seas are wide.
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