His ovation

He strains; his eyes are shut; his hands will clench;
Her curiosity slyly prevails:
She wants to watch him come; see all his strength;
And view the majesty, with which he sails
Into the harbour that she has prepared
Receptively, adoringly, with all
Her allure, so he’ll decorate her bared
Quayside, where he will linger to recall
The journey for an age after the trip,
That he completes with a groan and a smile
Once she finds his embrace; and that the tip
Of his fine vessel has a certain style:
It catches her and with the blunt pulsation
She comes as well; and shares his strained ovation.