Do You Mind If We Talk a Bit?

Last night I walked about this ship

Whose passengers we are,

And contemplated the quiet trip

And the horizon, stretched afar.

As I gazed outward from ship’s stern,

I broke the silence with a shout;

But when the stillness did return,

My solitude was not in doubt.

A cold, dank wind spit in my face,

So I huddled against the railing

With eyes cast downward toward the trace

Which the ship had long been trailing.

How distinctly I could hear

The lapping of the waves below,

And then inside of me a fear

Began to grow . . . to grow and grow.

Suppose I slipped into that sea

Which was indifferent to my shout,

Would anyone on board hear me

And throw a line and get me out?

Or would that wave that laps below

Simply lap on me instead,

And soon become a chilling foe

That breaks upon my bobbing head?

To the railing I clung tightly,

And my fears began to wane;

‘Til finally I could take them lightly,

And relax my grip again.

I retired to my cabin,

Closing the door on my alarm,

Pondering what a joy to have been

Spared of all that cold, damp harm.

What could have made me panic

On the safest ship afloat?

You do agree that this Titanic

Is no ordinary boat.

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