Always at sea I think about the dead.
On barques invisible they seem to sail
The self-same course; and from the decks cry 'Hail'!
Then I recall old words that they have said,
And see their faces etched upon the mist-
Dear faces I have kissed.
Always the dead seem very close at sea.
The coarse vibrations of the earth debar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem