The ship was unsound; and on each hardened face,
The clenching of jaws of their falling from grace.
The waves held akin that which they brought to bear;
And breathing came hard in the thickening air.
The palpable preface in each solemn groan
Resembled a realized unreal undertone:
Of crossing Hellespont, submitting to death.
That the light was no more was on each trying breath.
At the end of the journey there was no blame cast,
As the wind in the storm had its way with the mast.
With the sail broke and waving, the last hope was lost;
And sanity left as the old ship was tossed.
She danced for her masters, and took every blow
with vigor, and tilted at more than a show.
As pretenses floated away with the till,
It seemed she had summoned the last of her will.
The sickening crack of her stern was alive
In the minds of the crew as they fought to survive.
Descending into the unknown was a shock,
As the cold of the sea, and the sight of the dock.
Their efforts redoubled, but strength was a dream.
The billows were stealing the last of their steam.
Leander went under for permanent leave.
He faced his demise with a longing reprieve.
From high on the beachhead, a light was restored.
Their sought after Hero was sent from the Lord.
They prayed and they screamed with their souls for a hand,
But try as they might, they did not reach the land.
The ship was unsound, and on each frozen face,
the slacking of jaws in that dark lifeless place.
The waves held akin that which they could not bear,
and breathing came not; and the sea did not care.