A Requiem

_For Soldiers lost in Ocean Transports_

When, after storms that woodlands rue,

  To valleys comes atoning dawn,

The robins blithe their orchard-sports renew;

  And meadow-larks, no more withdrawn

Caroling fly in the languid blue;

The while, from many a hid recess,

Alert to partake the blessedness,

The pouring mites their airy dance pursue.

  So, after ocean's ghastly gales,

When laughing light of hoyden morning

    breaks,

      Every finny hider wakes--

  From vaults profound swims up with

    glittering scales;

  Through the delightsome sea he sails,

With shoals of shining tiny things

Frolic on every wave that flings

  Against the prow its showery spray;

All creatures joying in the morn,

Save them forever from joyance torn,

  Whose bark was lost where now the

    dolphins play;

Save them that by the fabled shore,

  Down the pale stream are washed away,

Far to the reef of bones are borne;

  And never revisits them the light,

Nor sight of long-sought land and pilot more;

  Nor heed they now the lone bird's flight

Round the lone spar where mid-sea surges

    pour.