My heart, a ship upon the rolling sea

and soft sails swollen up with winds on high,

is bound, lured on by lustrous fantasy,

for sultry waters under thundering sky.

I've braved the storm before, been swept and thrown

upon the fitful pity of her waves,

and by her haughty glances have I known

the toils of a hundred jealous slaves.

Their wrecks arise around me, splintered fear

and longing, and in short, I am afraid,

but past their hapless shadows shall I steer

to miss the vain mistakes that they have made.

My ship and sails, awoken in the squall,

have spoken—let her trembling thunder call,

her clouds be broken, and her waters fall.