Revenging plundered secrets, Ocean pounced,
And not in play.
The Nina, taken by a scruff of sails,
Lit up her stern;
Then, through the gloom, the Pinta’s lantern, too!
Valiant, but vain:
The last wave-interrupted blips of hope,
Then out. Lost.
Each was alone amid the dusk and rain.
Into the tempest’s teeth he launched a buoy
To light the way
To India, and an envoi to his sons:
Remember me.
So, from my stern, for two light caravels
I light these lines,
That I go not entirely into night,
Nor they lose sight,
Who soon enough must make the crossing too.
Copyright ©
Gerald Harnett, all rights reserved