Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Crossing The Bar

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.

-- Alfred, Lord Tennyson

*This was sent to me by my sister, G, who read it at my uncle's funeral last week.


Marcie said...

Beautiful! I love this.

xo M

winnibriggs said...

What a lovely poem to use on such a sad occasion!
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legend in his own lunchtime said...

What more has a man any more than a leaf
A man has his seasons, so why should we grieve.
When all through his life, he appears fine and gay
then like a leaf he must wither, and soon fade away.