William Brown

"He bore the name of William Brown" --
His name, at least, did not go down
With him that day
He went the way
Of certain death where duty lay.

He looked his fate full in the face --
He saw his watery resting-place
Undaunted, and
With firmer hand
Held others' hopes in sure command. --

The hopes of full three hundred lives --
Aye, babes unborn, and promised wives!
"The odds are dread,"
He must have said,
"Here, God, is one poor life instead. "

No time for praying overmuch --
No time for tears, or woman's touch
Of tenderness,
Or child's caress --
His last "God bless them! " stopped at "bless" --

Thus man and engine, nerved with steel,
Clasped iron hands for woe or weal,
And so went down
Where dark waves drown
All but the name of William Brown.