Clinton Scollard

Dirge for a Sailor

  Beyond the bourns of time and sleep,
    Beyond the sway of tides,
  A voyager o'er death's darksome deep,
    His ship at anchor rides.

  He who from boyhood never knew
    A garden save the foam,
  Whose only rooftree was the blue,
    At last has found a home.

  And what more fit than that the wave
    He loved through life to stem
  Should sing above his green sea grave
    This sailor's requiem!