Classic Poem

O stealthily-creeping Merrimac,
Hush low your fiery breath;
You who gave life to ships of strife
Are sailing unto your death!—
“I am ready and dressed for burial,
Beneath the Cuban wave;
But still I can fight for God and right,
While resting in my grave!”

O men that are sailing the Merrimac,
Your hearts are beating high;
But send a prayer through the smoking air,
To your Captain in the sky!—
“We know there is death in every breath,
As we cling to the gunless deck;
And grand will be our voyage, if we
Can make of our ship a wreck!”

Now drop the bower of the Merrimac,
And swing her to the tide.
Now scuttle her, braves, and bid the waves
Sweep into her shattered side!—
“Through a flying hell of shot and shell,
We passed Death, with a sneer;
We wrenched our life from a novel strife,
And even our foemen cheer!”