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The Cruise of the In Memoriam

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The wan light of a stormy dawn     Gleamed on a tossing ship:     It was the In Memoriam     Upon a mourning trip.     Wild waves were on the windward bow,     And breakers on the lee;     And through her sides the women heard     The seething of the sea.     O Captain! cried a widow fair,     Her plump white hands clasped she,     Thinkst thou, if drowned in this dread storm,     That savd we shall be?     You speak in riddles, lady dear,     How savd can we be     If we are drowned? Alas, I mean     In Paradise! said she.     O Ive sailed North, and Ive sailed South     (He was a godless wight),     But boy or man, since my days began,     That shore I neer did sight!     The Captain told the First Mate bold     What that fair lady said;     The First Mate sneered in his black beard,     His eyes burned in his head.     Full forty souls are here aboard,     A-sailing on the wave,     Without the crew, and, twixt us two,     I think theyve none to save.     Full forty souls, and each one is     A mourner, as you know.     They weep the scuppers full; the ship     Is waterlogged with woe.     Again he sneered in his black beard:     The cruise is not so brief,     But, ere we land on earthly strand,     All will have found relief.     Nay, nay, the Captain said, First Mate,     You have forgotten one     With eyes of blue; the tears are true     From those dear eyes that run!     She mourns her sweetheart drowned last year,     A seaman he, forsooth!     I would not drown for Christ his crown     If she were mine, Fair Ruth!     Brave words! but words, the First Mate cried,     Are wind! Behold in me     The warmest lover and the last!     Mine shall the maiden be.     .         .         .         .         .     Fair Ruth stood by the taffrail high,     A cross dropped in the sea,     If you lie here, my sweetheart dear,     By this remember me!     Fair Ruth stood by the taffrail high,     A ring dropped in the sea:     Marry him not, ye false mermaids,     Married hes now to me!     The heavens flashed flame; a black cloud came,     Its wings the sky did span,     And hovered above the fated ship     Like death oer a dying man.     Bended the spars and shrieked the shrouds,     The sails flew from the mast,     And, like a soul by fiends pursued,     The ship fled through the blast.     More sail! more sail! the First Mate cried     (The Captain stood aghast),     More sail! more sail! and he laughed in scorn,     All by the mizen mast.     O brethren dear, theres nought to fear,     The steward told me so!     Twas the parson meek who thus did speak,     Just come up from below:     And were there, he said, with upraised head,     And hands clasped piously,     I have a sainted spouse in Heaven,     I trow she waits for me.     Then grimly laughed the false First Mate     Good parson, let her be!     Ive a wife in every port but that,     And that we shall not see.     Oh, pardon seek! cried the parson meek,     And pray, if pray you can,     For much I fear, by your scornful sneer,     That you are a sinful man.     Then louder laughed the false First Mate,     Louder and louder still,     And the wicked crew laughed loudly too,     As wicked seamen will.     O Captain! whispered a gentle dame,     When shall we see the land?     The Captain answered never a word,     But clasped her by the hand.     .         .         .         .         .     Day after day, night after night,     On, on the ship did reel:     The Captain drank with the second mate,     The First Mate held the wheel.     Down came a black cloud on the ship,     And wrapped her like a pall,     And horror of awful darkness fell     Upon them one and all.     The night had swallowed them utterly,     None could his fellow see,     But ghostly voices up and down     Went whispering fearsomely.     No faint ray shone from moon or sun,     The light of Heaven was gone,     But ever the First Mate held the wheel,     And ever the ship rushed on.     .         .         .         .         .     Fair Ruth knelt down in that grim gloom,     She prayed beneath her breath:     God carry me oer this dread sea     That seems the Sea of Death!     She ceased, and lo! a lurid glow     Oer that dark water spread,     And in the blackness burned, afar,     A line of bloody red.     What lights are yon? the Captain said.     The First Mate answered then:     No lights that ever shone upon     The world of living men.     Down on your knees! the parson cried;     Thank God, for all is well!     The First Mate laughed: Those lights, they are     The harbour lights of Hell.     On flew the ship; to every lip     An ashen pallor came,     For all might see that suddenly     The sea had turned to flame.     The lights were near; the Sea of Fear,     Amid the silence dire,     On that dread shore broke evermore     In soundless foam of fire.     Oh, what are yon gray ghosts and wan!     The parson cried, who seem     With coloured strings of beads to play,     As in a dreadful dream?     Damned souls; the First Mate said; they sit     And count, through endless years,     The moments of Eternity     On beads of burning tears.     Then, Who are you, the parson said,     That talk so free of Hell?     My name is Satan, he replied,     Have I not steered you well?     Back, back the yards! the Captain cried     Then quoth the false First Mate:     Like many more who sight this shore,     You back your yards too late.     There are the dear deceased you mourned     With such exceeding zest;     They call you, whoso freely goes     Een yet may save the rest.     One pale ghost waved the vessel back     With gestures sad and dumb,     Fair Ruth has plunged into the sea,     My love, my love, I come!     .         .         .         .         .     All in a moment shone the sun,     Blue gleamed the sky and sea,     The brave old ship upon the waves     Was dancing merrily.     And merrily to sound of bells     To her old port full soon     The In Memoriam that went forth     Returned the Honeymoon.     There oer their grog sea-captains still     Her wondrous story tell,     And how her Captain backed his yards     A biscuit-throw from Hell.

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"The wan light of a stormy dawn..."

"The Cruise of the In Memoriam" is a quintessential example of Victor James Daley's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...

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