Beneath the tumultuous froth Through which I sailed. As I hoisted my heavy cloth I swear I could see the glistening scale. Of a maiden on the prowl In the great old, cerulean sea. And from the frigid, icy, bowels Did she long stare back at me. Her face, though fair Reflected in her piercing gaze. An expression I’d compare To that wondrous, prussian maze. I watched in quiet unrest As she dove further down. Disappearing below the breaking crest And I then too, pushed through the sound.