At dead of night,
By full moonlight,
A stately ship sailed out to sea,
From surge and tempest free.
She carried out,
From pain and doubt,
A soul as grand as earth has known,
To meet its own.
He lingered long
To bless with song
Nations that, yet unborn, shall praise
The beauty of his lays.
He lived and loved,
And, dying, proved
How greater than his finished line
Is man: well-nigh divine.
He walks no more
By wood or shore,
Along the dunes of Farringford:
He tarries with his Lord.
