WE bore our comrade from his bunk, we kept him overnight, In a fold of heavy canvas we sewed him good and tight— With stitch on stitch we sewed him in and hid him from the sight ... We laid him on a tilted plank, and solemn-souled were we. ... Behind us whirled the troubled wake, around us spread the sea— And then each man removed his hat and stood with down-sunk head As the dapper little captain read the service for the dead. Said the Boss of all the cattlemen, "I'm glad it isn't me Wot 'as to lie so lonesome at the bottom o' the sea." And @3I@1 looked out across the waves which ran in crests of foam, And longed for fields, and running brooks, and all my friends, and home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VICTOR RAFOLSKI ON ART by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON TAGORE by MARIANNE MOORE IN THE TRENCHES by ISAAC ROSENBERG JOHN ERICSSON DAY MEMORIAL, 1918 by CARL SANDBURG TWO PROMENADES SENTIMENTALES: 1. RAIN by EDITH SITWELL |