Classic Poem

They have left her all alone, with her keel turned to the sun;
They have left her, with a curse, for the deed that she has done.

Only sunbeams lave her sides as they float out to the west;
Only sand-drifts kiss the bow, where the sparkling wave has pressed.

Even little children pause and grow silent, with great eyes,
To point their rosy hands in awe upon her where she lies.

The laden boats go by with their snowy sails outspread;
The merry laughter echoes on the shore beside the dead;

Not a thought from those who prized her, that she knew well, face to face;
Not a glance upon the sea-starved one, so lonely in disgrace.

They have left her all alone, with her keel turned to the sun;
They have left her, with a curse, for the deed that she has done.

Throughout the long night, waves sob the tale unto the tide;
And she writhes in her anguish, and she moans in her pride.

And her strong heart-timbers shrink through the quivering summer day,
And the thirsty beams cry out for one touch of salty spray.

They have left her all alone, with her keel turned to the sun;
They have left her, with a curse, for the deed that she has done.

Oh! the pity in the fisher's hut, where lights burn dim and low!
Oh! the great nets idly drying as the swift tides come and go!

Oh! the empty platters waiting when the oaken board is spread!
Oh! the rude hearts broken, breaking, with the breaking of the bread!

Back she came, with ragged mainsail, plowing through a veil of foam,
Like a frightened steed a-quiver, pressing for the gates of home;

In the roar and in the tempest she had weathered through the gale,
But her humble sun-browned lovers came not back beneath her sail.

They have left her all alone, with her keel turned to the sun;
They have left her, with a curse, for the deed that she has done.