Volume 31 — THE GLOUCESTER MOTHER

When Autumn winds are high They wake and trouble me, With thoughts of people lost A-coming on the coast, And all the ships at sea. How dark, how dark and cold. And fearful in the waves, Are tired folk who lie not still And quiet in their graves;— In moving waters deep, That will not let men sleep As they may sleep on any hill; May sleep ashore till time is old, And all the earth is frosty cold.— Under the flowers a thousand springs They sleep and dream of many things. God bless them all who die at sea! If they must sleep in restless waves, God make them dream they are ashore, With grass above their graves.