By Dannie Buckley of Kingwilliamstown, Co. Cork, a Survivor of the Wreck

Sincerest sympathy goes out to-day
From every heart to friends of those
who sleep.

From kindred and dear homeland
far away,
Within the deep.

And in a special manner for our isle,
When we think of our own beloved
beloved dead.
The toilers of the sea, who perished
while
in quest of bread.

Some sailed expecting to clasp lovingly

Their own beyond the waves, and
others sighed,
For leaving souls they ne'er again
might see
Where mortals bide.

But Fate for hundreds had a sad
surprise
And showed how worthless oft are
wealth and fame
The mammoth liner, lauded to the
skies
A wreck became.

She sank in spite of all the skill displayed
Striving to make her mistress of the sea

For, ere the witling could come to
her aid,
Submerged was she.

And with the ship sank poor and
wealthy too;
Death exercised o'er classes all his
power.
And gold could not his iron grasp undo,
Not for one hour.

And so the ocean is not conquered
yet—
Its awful might it uses ruthlessly;
It still can fill with sorrow and regret
Humanity.

Oh, yes o'er homes of joy it seems
to have
The pow'r to cast a lasting pall of
gloom.
And turn Itself Into a yawning grave.
Where no flow'rs bloom.

DANNIE BUCKLEY,
Late of Klngwilliamstown, Co. Cork,
and a survivor of the "Titanic"
disaster, 855 Tremont Ave., Bronx,
N. Y. City