Maiden Fair

No sternward glance at swift retreating bay she lifts her face to kiss the crisp blue sky as rearing high, with anchor firm aweigh her eager painted gaze bids no goodbye but woos in joy each drumming wind-filled shroud 'fore plunging down to plumb the cold dark sea then breached in foam, uplifts the bow-sprit proud with streams of briny tears her sad esprit. In gilded flowers clothed for ocean flight her oaken breasts caressed by wind and spray my helmsman's guide, my compass through the night yet dolphin's shadow dancer by the day. And when our ship be wrecked by storm and reef this Maiden fair shall bear no guilt or grief