“All’s Well”

In roll the billows with a sullen roar
     Against the rocks that guard a peaceful shore;
The spray, dashed up with a relentless force,
     In its white shroud reflects the moonbeam’s course.

Some lonely sails far out upon the deep,
     Like phantom shapes across the moonlight creep;
Soft o’er the molten seas sounds the ship’s bell,
     Follows the sailor’s cheering cry, “All’s well.”

On shore a life has ceased its mortal toil,
     To find a well-earned rest in hallowed soil;
That watch-cry hovers o’er the moonlit bed,
     “All’s well,” a benediction for the dead.