To A Scrimshawed Whale’s Tooth

Quaint relic that the mellowing years Have tinged with Autumn’s ripened gold, What scene of olden time veneers Your ivory surface smooth and cold! Hard bitten by some huge sperm whale You often gored the giant squid, That nightmare of the deep, amid Unfathomed gulfs of crag and vale. Remotest seas, their bounds unknown, That old bull whale was wont to cross By ways uncharted, he alone, Shared with the wandering albatross. Marauder savage and morose, He spurned the waves in pride and wrath, No killer dared dispute the path The monarch of the ocean chose. Then came the whaler’s crew - and this Lone carven fragment now remains Of all his bulk, that the abyss Long since engulfed. Yet it explains A graphic story. Clothed with life Its dead white surface - line by line - Unfolds in intricate design A sailor’s dreams - etched by his knife. Through many an hour of summer haze While the long swells rocked languidly His patient fingers graved that maze Of intertwining tracery. And that sweet face with hair so trim, Love’s arrow, and two hearts that bleed, What touching romance we may read In “H to J” - to Her from Him. Old Time united them we trust - Initials linked but separate - Though both long mingled with the dust Their story we may still translate From this rude sketch. Devotedly They passed a lifetime richly blest And safe at home, together rest In sad, sweet graves beside the sea. Or did perchance, Fate intervene To bow that head in sorrow low For lover lost - what came between Those twain we cannot hope to know. The sadness of a far off day The fading of a golden dream Dim memories, how fresh they seem To ever youthful H and J! Enshrined as on a magic page A clasp knife for his only aid, Still fondly lingers age by age The love a sailor bore a maid. His name, nor hers, no one can say, No evidence besides, endures, But silent eloquence like yours Immortalizes H and J!