Tour and Taxis esplanade: no clue
Shed Three is hidden from our view
Then modest sign of fabled liner
The pride and joy of its designer*…
I speak in riddles? Not at all
The Titanic holds us all in thrall
Its precious artefacts on show
Hauled up by divers from below!
Man’s hubris here reached dizzy heights
This ship, with New York in its sights,
Set sail before the first World War
In luxury not seen before.
It was Belfast’s pride and joy;
“Iceberg ahead!” from crow’s nest boy
But cumbersome, its turn too slow
Its hull was ripped, it sunk below …
Both rich and poor and hapless crew
Watched launch of twenty lifeboats new
Resigned alas to Neptune’s grave
Less than a thousand souls were saved…
Jewellery, tools and clothes imparted
Treasures of those who departed
Hoping to fulfil their dreams …
State rooms reveal those who had means.
Four-bunk-bed cabins for Third Class;
A microcosm of the past
Menus spoke of their last meal
To give all visitors a feel
Of life aboard in untold splendour;
Headlines screamed: Night to Remember!
Though 1912 was long ago
This fateful voyage haunts us so!
(c) Poet in the woods 2024
* Thomas Andrews (1873 - April 15th, 1912)
In Brussels until May 20th, 2024
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