Fiery foams, as if afire, arising.
Oh huge Glorious Glove, for gladness or grief,
Unveils awe in the ocean, overpowering.
Lesser ladies live up to such a tide.
A barren-full of abilities and beauty make them bold.
To haughty heights are heaved their pride,
Towering tall to pomposities untold.
Though torrent-teaming, tides are still tamed,
For swooning sinks their might at the Seashore.
As Lunging-Legions are they no longer named;
Ships ashore are shivering no more.
My dearest darling, you are the Shore in deified state,
Lesser ladies, by your loveliness, do kneel prostrate.
- The Knight of Hillsborough