Lament for a Ship Condemned for Scrap.

What solace could I offer thee
O rust-ridden relic of the sea?
Your years are shown by your rotting hulk,
Far flung from the days when your mighty bulk
Was evidence of your prowess.

For nigh on twenty years or more
You tramped the seas the wide world o'er.
Though many a man has on thee served,
How many now know where you are berthed
In nameless nonentity?

Your spirit is sad, but wanders still,
And harkens now to the linnets trill.
The gale moves clapper 'gainst thy bell
And strikes a sound like cold death's knell
To summon thee to thy fate.