Prayer
John Masefield
1878 to 1967
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When the last sea is sailed and the last charted,
When the last field is reaped and the harvest stored,
When the last fire is out and last guest departed,
Grant the last prayer that I pray, Be good to me, O Lord!
And let pass in a night at sea, a night of and thunder,
In the loud crying of the wind sail and rope and spar;
Send me a ninth peaceful wave to drown and roll me under
To cold tunny-fishes’ home where the drowned galleons are.
And the dim green quiet place far out of sight hearing,
Grant I may hear at whiles the wash thresh of the sea-foam
About the fine keen bows the stately clippers steering
Towards the lone northern star the fair ports of home.