You purge yon tempest from the sea,
to stroke and soothe it's vanity.
Tides lay dormant at your feet,
Raging winds beg fond retreat.
Pounding surfs no longer seethe,
onto your battered shores erode.
Serenity has cause to breathe,
until thy dire wrath explode.
With arms extended left to right,
mercy's path has feared your brew.
Destruction hails to fill the night
and darkened skies are lit anew.
Oh! fickle daughter of the fate,
one's destiny can not endure.
Life's wanton hand is but to sate,
of one whose child is so demure.
