Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star
And one clear call for me!
An 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 or 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 or farewell
When I embark.

For though 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 crossed the bar.

-- Alfred Tennyson

(found in the funeral book of my great uncle Benny, who died in 1937, on the 9th of September at 10:45 in the morning at the age of 10 years, 6 months and 14 days)