The Sea Ritual

(When all the world is young, lad
And all the trees are green;
And every goose a swan, lad
And every lass a queen;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad
And round the world away!
Young blood must have its course, lad
And every dog his day

When all the world is old, lad
And all the trees are brown;
And all the sport is stale, lad
And all the wheels run down;
Creep home, and take your place there
The spent and maimed among;
God grant you find one face there
You loved when all was young.)

Prayer unsaid, and mass unsung, Deadman's dirge must still be rung:
Dingle-dong, the dead-bells sound! Mermen chant his dirge around!

Wash him bloodless, smooth him fair, Stretch his limbs, and sleek his hair
Dingle-dong, the dead-bells go! Mermen swing them to and fro!