His MaidenWithin the ages of great ships and sails,There lived a young maiden whose tears fell softAgainst the sand, hair blowing with the gales.Waves chilled her feet, and she shivered, and coughed.In her hands lay a bottle, corked, shut tight.In the bottle lay a letter, folded,Nestled inside glass. Heavy with words, lightIn weight. Her hands trembled and she scolded:Why do this? She cried, her tears slipping down.He, who lay still, left she full of mourning.Aboard a great ship, he'd fallen, and drown,Leaving Miss alone, quick, without warning.Still she writes her letters, though quiet tearsDo not go unnoticed. Her love still hears.