No stone or wreath from human hands
Will ever mark the spot
Where fifteen hundred men went down,
But Manhood perished not.
Old Ocean takes but little heed
Of human tears or woe.
No shafts adorn the ocean graves,
Nor weeping willows grow.
Nor is there need of marble slab
To keep in mind the spot
Where noble men went down to death,
But manhood perished not!
Those men who looked on death and smiled,
And trod the crumbling deck,
Have saved much more than precious lives
From out that awful wreck.
Though countless joys and hopes and fears
Were shattered at a breath,
'Tis something that the name of Man
Did not go down to death.
'Tis not an easy thing to die,
E'en in the open air,
Twelve hundred miles from home and friends,
In a shroud of black despair.
A wreath to crown the brow of man,
And hide a former blot
Will ever blossom o'er the waves
Where Manhood perished not.
HARVEY P. THEW{spelling uncertain due to poor printing}
CHAPTER VIII
THE CALL FOR HELP HEARD
THE VALUE OF THE WIRELESS--OTHER SHIPS ALTER THEIR
COURSE--RESCUERS ON THE WAY
"WE have struck an iceberg. Badly damaged.
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