The growing waters; it unmans one quite,
Especially when life is rather new.
I recollect Great Britain’s coast looks white,
But almost every other country’s blue,
When gazing on them, mystified by distance,
We enter on our nautical existence.
So Juan stood, bewildered on the deck:
The wind sung, cordage strained, and sailors swore,
And the ship creaked, the town became a speck,
From which away so fair and fast they bore.