The star-filled seas are smooth to-night br From France to England strown; br Black towers above the Portland light br The felon-quarried stone. br br On yonder island, not to rise, br Never to stir forth free, br Far from his folk a dead lad lies br That once was friends with me. br br Lie you easy, dream you light, br And sleep you fast for aye; br And luckier may you find the night br Than ever you found the day.