Death Opens Unknown Doors. It Is Most

I Must Down To The Seas Again, To The Vagrant Gypsy Life, To The Gull's Way And The Whale's Way Where The Wind's Like A Whetted Knife And All I Ask Is A Merry Yarn From A Laughing Fellow Rover, And Quiet Sleep And A Sweet Dream When The Long Trick's Over.

Heaven To Me's A Fair Blue Stretch Of Sky, Earth's Jest A Dusty Road.

I Hold That When A Person Dies / His Soul Returns Again To Earth; / Arrayed In Some New Flesh Disguise / Another Mother Gives Him Birth / With Sturdier Limbs And Brighter Brain.

Lord, Give To Me Who Are Old And Rougher The Things That Little Children Suffer, And Let Keep Bright And Undefiled The Young Years Of The Little Child.

Off Cape Horn There Are But Two Kinds Of Weather, Neither One Of Them A Pleasant Kind.