Verne

 
 
Named Nautilus it's fleeting niche of neon blue betrays and mocks it's reason.
Condemned to venture from northern ports whose trade in warmer season.
To prey upon nomadic merchant or vessels meant for war.
In life's natal nunnery each shall rest whose harm shall be no more.
No care is made to give a thought of their breath now filled with sea.
Not nymph but mercenary or fortune seeker whose soul shall be set free.
No pleasure made but like a nettle whose thorn can not be found.
Where nicotine gives little comfort observing men cry then make no sound.