The seeking soul
that wanders sea-sunk graves
Of old and unformed
loves is warned by salt-
Tongued sailors
and their ghosts of simple deaths
That, stealing
through my shadow, lurks the end
Befallen by the
crews of sundered vaults;
Their vessels
borne by tidal-shouldered skies,
Wherein the silent
voice, whose crowded breast
Has broken from
its natural path to purge
The greater of
my evils from her womb,
Is neither lord
nor servant to my sin.
