By Alfred Tennyson

　　Sunset and evening star，

　　And one clear call for me!

　　And 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 and foam，

　　When That which drew form out the boundless deep

　　Turns again home.

　　Twilight and evening bell，

　　And after that the dark!

　　And may there be no sadness of 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 crost the bar.