When the steerage passengers came aboard the Titanic,

they only wanted to cross the Atlantic.

These people had sold everything but their soul, to reach America, the ultimate goal.

They were thankful for a room below,

never suspecting the danger of being that low.

And on the dreadful night, fifteenth of April,

the great ship met the iceberg’s peril.

No one thought it necessary that the poor be warned,

for no one in first class should have to mourn.

The steerage people were assured nothing was wrong-

yet all the lifeboats had already gone.

A poem about the Titanic written in 1998


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