by Mrs. J. Brown
Sometime at eve, when the tide is low,
I shall slip my moorings and sail away
with no response to friendly hail
from kindred craft in Busy Bay.
In silent hush of twilight pale,
when night stoops to embrace the day,
and voices call and waters flow,
that time at eve when the tide is low.
I shall slip my moorings and sail away.
when the shadows purple darkly trail
on the even tide of the unknown sea,
I shall fare me away and dip my sail.
The rippled waters tell the tale
of a lonely voyager sailed away
to the Mystic Isles where at anchor lie
the craft of those who have sailed before.
On the unknown sea to the unknown shore
you who have watched me sail away
will miss my craft from Busy Bay,
friendly barques once anchored near.
Those loving souls my heart holds dear
answered silent in sorrowed tear.
Peacefully I've furled my sail
in mooring sheltered from stormy gale,
and greeted friends who sailed before
'cross the unknown sea, to unknown shore.
Given to me by a dear Canadian friend, many years ago, written by her late kin Mrs. J. Brown,
in memory of her dear friend Mervin Uren who died on the 14th day of September, 1929.
This poem speaks deeply to me, what every sailor who goes down to the sea knows,
that we were made for much broader reach…