We found him underneath the morning tide,--
Bones bleached by the light of the sun,
Eyes looking into the beyond,
Arms reaching for no one except
His gentle mourning bride,
His young and lovely bride.

I heard him first, a clatter on the pier,--
Skeleton jangling against the spray,
Wrists bound to embrace the sky,
Brighter than starlight amongst the waves
To greet his darling dear,
To smile at his dear.

We buried him at sea at evening tide,--
Hands lifting his casket up,
Faces grim as the casket sank,
She wept beneath the canvas sails
That billowed as she cried,
That hailed the sun as she cried.