Los Angeles Daily Times, April 17, 1912
The Loss of the Titanic. by T. Howard Wilson.
Down Gergon gulfs she plunged to
death and doom;
Dressed in palatial garnitures of arts.
Like some lithe Amazon who laughs at gloom
She shouldered up the sea all blither of heart.
And glorying in her supple panther stride
Rode toward the West in fair, majestic pride.
Back from her prow the waters leaped in spray;
The winds, to hear her sing her maiden song,
Stood mute with joy and watched her sail away
From wharves where serried throngs sent cries along
Unmindful of the massive hidden foe
That lurked beneath a smiling sea of woe.
The children laughed, their parents danced with mirth.
No whelming seas should every wash them down;
A [stailfer] ship had never left its berth
With lordlier folk to grace its fair renown;
Ay me! that seas so pitiless should be
To drink the lives of such a company!
When morning dawned the great ship was no more,
Far down the gulfing tides she sank below;
While from the seething scar Carpathia bore
The rescued broken-hearted in their woe,
And o'er the word arose a mornful cry
That shuddered at the stars and murmured, Why?