Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/90

 UT of the East a hurricane
 * Swept down on Captain Lean—

That mariner and gentleman
 * Will never again be seen.

He sailed his ship against the foes
 * Of his own country dear,

But now in the trough of the billows
 * An aimless course doth steer.

Powder was violets to his nostrils,
 * Sweet the din of the fighting-line,

Now he is flotsam on the seas,
 * And his bones are bleached with brine.

The stars move up along the sky,
 * The moon she shines so bright,

And in that solitude the foam
 * Sparkles unearthly white.

This is the tomb of Captain Lean,
 * Would a straiter please his soul?

I trow he sleeps in peace,
 * Howsoever the billows roll!