Bleak tears,

And jaundice,

The sailor is near.

 

The fleeting night,

And day,

In years.

 

A white grip,

Fathomed and tattered,

Fleeting so near.

 

A glimpse of hand,

In shining throne,

Fleeting so near.

 

For two in one,

And hands so brittle,

Fleeting is here.