(For My Mother) The Fragile Splendour Of The Level Sea, The Moon'S Serene And Silver-Veiled Face, Make Of This Vessel An Enchanted Place Full Of White Mirth And Golden Sorcery. Now, For A Time, Shall Careless Laughter Be Blended With Song, To Lend Song Sweeter Grace, And The Old Stars, In Their Unending Race, Shall Heed And Envy Young Humanity. And Yet To-Night, A Hundred Leagues Away, These Waters Blush A Strange And Awful Red. Before The Moon, A Cloud Obscenely Grey Rises From Decks That Crash With Flying Lead. And These Stars Smile Their Immemorial Way On Waves That Shroud A Thousand Newly Dead!