CONFITEOR 



The shore-boat lies in the morning light, 

 By the good ship ready for sailing ; 



The skies are clear, and the dawn is bright, 



Tho' the bar of the bay is fleck'd with white, 

 And the wind is fitfully wp.iling ; 



Near the tiller stands the priest, and the knight 

 Leans over the quarter-railing. 



** There is time while the vessel tarries still, 

 There is time while her shrouds are slack, 



There is time ere her sails to the west-wind fill, 



Ere her tall masts vanish from town and from 

 hill, 

 Ere cleaves to her keel the track ; 



There is time for confession to those who will. 

 To those who may never come back." 



*' Sir priest, you can shrive these men of 

 mine. 



And, I pray you, shrive them fast, 

 And shrive those hardy sons of the brine, 

 Captain and mates of the Eglantine 



And sailors before the mast ; 



Then pledge me a cup of the Cyprus wine, 



For I fain would bury the past." 



86 



