I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky; and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.

God warms his hands at man's heart when he prays.

I must go down to the sea again For the call of the running tide It's a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied.

The days that make us happy make us wise

So death obscures your gentle form, So memory strives to make the darkness bright; And, in that heap of rocks, your body lies, Part of the island till the planet ends, My gentle comrade, beautiful and wise, Part of this crag this bitter surge offends, While I, who pass, a little obscure thing, War with this force, and breathe, and am its king.

And he who gives a child a treat Makes joy-bells ring in Heaven's street, And he who gives a child a home Builds palaces in Kingdom come, And she who gives a baby birth Brings Saviour Christ again to Earth.

But he has gone, A nation's memory and veneration, Among the radiant, ever venturing on, Somewhere, with morning, as such spirits will.