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