POSTHUMOUS POEMS
Let no man deem he knows their worthiest.
He who hath found the measure of the seas,
And the wind’s ways hath ruled and limited,
And knows the print of their wild passages,
The same may speak the praise of these men dead.
And having heard him we may surely know
There is no more to say than he hath said
And as his witness is the thing was so.
He who hath found the measure of the seas,
And the wind’s ways hath ruled and limited,
And knows the print of their wild passages,
The same may speak the praise of these men dead.
And having heard him we may surely know
There is no more to say than he hath said
And as his witness is the thing was so.
V
What praise shall England give these men her friends?
For while the bays and the large channels flow,
In the broad sea between the iron ends
Of the poised world where no safe sail may be,
And for white miles the hard ice never blends
With the chill washing edges of dull sea—
And while to praise her green and girdled land
Shall be the same as to praise Liberty—
So long the record of these men shall stand,
Because they chose not life but rather death,
Each side being weighed with a most equal hand,
Because the gift they had of English breath
They did give back to England for her sake,
Like those dead seamen of Elizabeth
And those who wrought with Nelson or with Blake
What praise shall England give these men her friends?
For while the bays and the large channels flow,
In the broad sea between the iron ends
Of the poised world where no safe sail may be,
And for white miles the hard ice never blends
With the chill washing edges of dull sea—
And while to praise her green and girdled land
Shall be the same as to praise Liberty—
So long the record of these men shall stand,
Because they chose not life but rather death,
Each side being weighed with a most equal hand,
Because the gift they had of English breath
They did give back to England for her sake,
Like those dead seamen of Elizabeth
And those who wrought with Nelson or with Blake
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