834. C. M. Anonymous. The Sailor's Grave. 1 Not in the church-yard shall he sleep, Amid the silent gloom, -- His home was on the mighty deep, And there shall be his tomb. 2 He loved his own bright, deep blue sea, O'er it he loved to roam; And now his winding sheet shall be That same bright ocean's foam. 3 No village bell shall toll for him Its mournful, solemn dirge; The winds shall chant a requiem To him beneath the surge. 4 For him, break not the grassy turf, Nor turn the dewy sod; His dust shall rest beneath the surf, His spirit with its God.
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