The Bowline.

Take her hand as she wades,
Lest she wanders into the deep.

Should she learn to stay afloat,
She will then release her grip.

With anchors adrift, so remember will she
Of the Boat she had but did not keep.

Should another sail by the stream,
She shall watch but will not weep.

Poised for what was that ceased to dwell,
A weary smile hangs on the line she sleeps.