For some reason, Alfred Lord Tennyson's poetry is resonating with me, today. Crossing the Bar reminds me of the Viking custom of sending the dead person on his boat, out to sea. I picture Waquoit Bay's current carrying me out to Cross Rip in Vineyard Sound.
Tennyson added Crossing the Bar to the end of his books. I'm thinking of adding it to my eulogy.
Tennyson added Crossing the Bar to the end of his books. I'm thinking of adding it to my eulogy.
Sunset and evening star
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
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