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spacer Over the Styx
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The mist lay heavy o’er the lake
Like a wall of thick white cloud.
Swirling, wet and quite opaque
It did the ferryman, enshroud.
It hid from the weary pilgrim
The ferryman’s long gaunt face,
There was a silence in the interim
As the pilgrim took up his place.

 
  The lake enjoined the River Styx
Which every soul must cross,
The small craft held no more than six
Plus a shackled albatross.
The bird, a millstone around it’s neck
Did perch upon the prow,
The pilgrim puzzled turned to the fore deck
A frown did crease his brow.
 
  The ferryman stretched out his bony hand
It was his payment that he sought,
The payment demanded ‘ere they could land
Had made the passengers quite distraught.
The ferryman’s fee was their earthly soul
For that journey over the Styx.
Death was the claimant of this toll
From the unsuspecting six.
 
Sailing Ships The pilgrim struck out and broke the chain
That restrained the large white bird.
The millstone cracked and broke in twain
And it’s cry of freedom, heard.
The ferryman withdrew his hand
The pilgrim moved to take the oar,
The mist dispersed, he could see the land
So brought his charges, safe to shore.
Pilgrim
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