She was placed upon a plank, resting upon the taffrail, (the stern railing,)
One end of which was secured by a bight of the trysail brailing.
The captain read the prayers, somewhat curtailed, but a just proportion,
The plank was raised, ‘Amen!’ the corpse dropped into the ocean.
Down in its deep mysterious caves she sunk to sleep with fishes,
While a few bubbles rose from her and burst as if in mockery of human wishes.
‘Up with your helm; brace round; haul out your bowlines;
Clear up the deck; keep her full; coil down your tow-lines!’
The ship was on her course, and not a word said to remind us
Of the melancholy fact that we had left one of our number behind us.