“The Convergence of the Twain” — Thomas Hardy

In a solitude of the sea
Deep from the shock of the world-wide wave,
Where the cold currents meet and the wind blows cold,
The ship lies under the pale moonlight,
Silent, as though she knew her fate.
Steel and water, silver and gloom,
The living’s labor and the dead’s mistake;
Her hubris met the hidden will,
The iceberg waits, and the vessel sleeps.
Jewelled hulls, fine fittings, forgotten art,
All lies beneath, silent beneath the deep,
A monument to pride and impermanence,
A warning carried in the ocean’s sweep.