A Burial at Sea.


[Illustration: 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--