The time, man-measured, was long ago,
Some seventy fleeting years, or so.
The place, where the sea was with light agleam,
And the shore shone white as a maiden’s dream.
And the Mary Ann—how a prayer prevailed!—
Was the name of the boat that never sailed.
For the men who built it, a blackguard twain,
Had taken a maiden’s pure name in vain.
And she prayed that for taunts, and for many mocks,
The boat would not move from its building blocks.