And so blue the sky above them and so blue the wave beneath,
That all,—all thought of living and no one thought of death,
As, hour by hour, the vessel left England far behind,
And, hour by hour, the ship sped on as speeds an ocean wind.
And when night came, with fond good-nights the floating city slept,
Yet ever o'er the rolling waves the mighty vessel swept,
And no one thought of danger—until with thunderous roar,
The great ship struck the rock-like ice, and shook from floor to floor.
Then there was breaking timbers, and bulging plates of steel,
And noise of great commotion along that vessel's keel—
Then there were cries of anguish, and curses from rough men,
And earnest prayers for safety—O prayers for safety then.
For women wept in terror, and stout men drop'd a tear,
And the shouting and the tumult was maddening to hear,
Yet there amidst that seething the life-boats, one by one,
Were set adrift at midnight—where cold sea-rivers run.
Then, on that fated vessel, the thousand waited there
In hope some sea-born sister would snatch them from despair,
But no ship came to aid her, and, in the dead of night,
The noble ship Titanic sank suddenly from sight.
O midway in old ocean, in her darkest, deepest gloom,
A thousand brave hearts bravely went down to meet their doom,—
And what a tragic picture!—Oh, what a solemn sight
Upon that fated vessel with the stars still shining bright!
Then there was time for thinking—O time enough to spare,
And there was time for cursing and time enough for pray'r,—
Time,—time for retrospection, and time enough to die,
Time, time for life's great tragedy—and time to reason why.
That was the greatest battle that ever yet was fought;
That was the greatest picture on any canvas wrought;
That was the greatest lesson that mortal man can teach;
That was the greatest sermon that priests of earth can preach.
Yet no one fought that battle with saber or with gun,
And no one saw that picture, save those brave hearts alone,
And no one read that lesson there written in the dark,
And no one heard that sermon that went straight to its mark.
Nor shall we know their story, the saddest of the sea,
Or shall we learn the sequel, the sorrow yet to be,
But long shall we remember how brave men bravely died
For some poor, lowly woman with a baby at her side.