There's a dreary bark and weary
And it's sailing black for woe;
Keeping ward round their lord,
Sit the muffled mutes arow.

Hushed the place, bared the face,
Of the poet dead and white;
Eyes of blue, yearning true,
Upward still, to heaven's light.

And the deep waters weep
Like a fairy bride forlorn;
And the hoar billows roar
Round the bark, and break and mourn.