Would time bend willingly to command?
The plains be plain for sailors to merry.
The sea as blue- do the winds reprimand?
In time do these ships aloft as wind carry.
The sailors plea do Poseidon glee.
If poets do sing, then heaven befell.
Trancing the waves of the sea.
Galleons- boy do they stand through hell.
Of war they hear but dun mistress they speak.
The shores lay unkindly far.
In end yet but bleak.
A voyage that be graved in stars.
Whatever does lie beyond the horizons?
May they strand further than the sirens.