There was a light that burned upon the prow,
the figure of a woman in its mast,
in dark, the isle of drudgery was passed,
and ram-rod straight she stood with salted brow.
The moon reflected on her seeing eyes
that looked into the distance with constraint
the figurehead of politics restrained,
she was not fearful of their dreadful lies.
Unyielding at the storm of every task,
she sailed as ship 'Restorer' through each sea,
her silvered hair of wood hailed ocean's lea,
the waterlilies bowed for living last,
forgotten, starboard's view of fading light:
the sun has set, tomorrow will arise.