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The Wreck |
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Bubbles
saucered from the divers, rising, tilting, past |
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Ribs of an
ancient sailing ship whose stunted broken masts |
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Lay among the
blackened rocks and reddish coral rose; |
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Peaceful
'neath the stormy sea, majestic in repose. |
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Who were the
men who sailed the ship |
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Whose hands
had rung the bell |
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Who braved
the crash of thunder's flash |
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What story
could they tell. |
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The questions
ran from eye to eye |
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The silence
sounded clear |
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Save for the
hissed metallic lisp |
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of divers
breathing gear. |
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And on they
swam from rib to rib |
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From stem to
stern they moved |
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Until they
saw an anchors claw |
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The ceaseless
sea had grooved. |
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Nearby a
cannon's blinded eye |
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Lay
impotently, dead; |
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The ocean's
mud, turned hard to crud |
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Replaced the
carriage bed. |
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And there
above a sandy patch |
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Protected
from the tides |
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The fishes
gleamed in sunny beams |
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With
iridescent sides. |
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The divers
rose above the scene- |
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The time to
leave had come, |
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Full fathom
five twice multiplied |
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They'd been
and now 'twas done. |
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For man is
but sea's visitor |
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Who cannot
tarry lest |
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His welcome's
worn and life is torn |
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Out of his
puny chest. |
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© 1998 Chris Hill |
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