Sail and hull.

A small ship battered close to shore

No harbor finds it to secure

Left its sails up far too late

In drowned hope to escape this fate

Now too close, and keel to pole

Twisted, tossed against the shoal

The wind too strong to pray escape 

The stones that grind and shred and scrape 

As lashed and racked with wind so full

Sails rounder, tauter than the hull

Now chewed upon by teeth of stone--

The able-bodied, fate unknown. 

The ship appears to bob but not

The ruinous wind pins to the spot--

And when the wind its whim will change

And tide is turned, and disarrange

The sails and shrouds, no more near break,

Drop dead, and low tide moved to wake

And drag the ghost ship toward the deep

The water full enough to sleep.

And so then down, into the sea

With no more mighty blast to be

Ground above as teeth on bone

Illusive life, no more is shown.