In ocean wastes no poppies blow,
No crosses stand in ordered
row,
There young hearts sleep… beneath the wave…
The
spirited, the good, the brave,
But stars a constant vigil keep,
For
them who lie beneath the deep.
‘Tis true you cannot kneel in
prayer
On certain spot and think. “He’s there.”
But you can to the ocean go…
See
whitecaps marching row on row;
Know one for him will always
ride…
In and out… with every tide.
And when your span of life is
passed,
He’ll meet you at the “Captain’s Mast.”
And
they who mourn on distant shore
For sailors who’ll come home
no more,
Can dry their tears and pray for
these
Who rest beneath the heaving seas…
For stars that
shine and winds that blow
And whitecaps marching row on row.
And
they can never lonely be
For when they lived… they chose the
sea.
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