by Lizzie Clark Hardy

 

Sometime at eve when the tide is low,

    I shall slip my mooring and sail away,

With no response to the friendly hail

    Of kindred craft in the busy bay

In the silent hush of the twilight pale

    When the night stoops down to embrace the day

And the voices call o’er the waters flow….

    Sometime at evening when the tide is low

I shall slip moorings and sail away

Through the purple shadows that darkly trail 

    O’er the ebbing tide of the unknown sea

I shall fade me away, with a dip of a sail

    And ripple of waters to tell the tale

Of a lonely voyager sailing away

    To Mystic Isles where at anchor lay

The crafts of those who have sailed before

    O’er the Unknown Sea to the Unknown Shore

A few who have watched me sail away

    Will miss my craft from the busy bay,

Some friendly barks that were anchored near

    Some loving hearts that my soul held dear

In the silent sorrow shall drop a tear

    But I shall have peacefully furled my sail

In moorings sheltered from storm or gale

    And greeted friends who have sailed before

O’er the Unknown Sea to the Well Known Shore

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