Below the thunders of the upper deep;
Far far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
Sea Smith sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumber’d and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge seaworms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.
SEA SMITH READ THIS WHEN SAD AND LONELY. GET SADDER AND LONELIER. MISS STEVE AND WORRY. AND BY WORRY, MEAN “FIND SAILORS AND RAPE.”
SEA SMITH NOW OFFICIALLY WORRIED. SOMETHING GOING ON WITH STEVE SMITH AND BY SOMETHING, NOT MEAN RAPE, THIS TIME.
THIS WASTE OF GOOD EATIN’ FOR SEA SMITH! AND BY EATIN’, SEA SMITH MEAN… YES, THAT. WITH FROWNS AND TEARS. ON BOTH SIDES.
THIS ALMOST MAKE SEA SMITH SMILE. ALMOST.
OK, SEA SMITH ACTUALLY SMILE AT THIS. MIGHT CHEER UP TO FIND CRUSE SHIP.
AUTOMATION HAPPEN WHEN LABOR COST FORCED HIGH. SEEM OBVIOUS EVEN TO SEMI-HUMAN. SEA SMITH LAUGH AND LAUGH, AND HOPE ROBOTS NEVER REPLACE SAILORS.
SEA SMITH FEEL MUCH BETTER NOW.