I sailed across the River Styx.

I sailed across the River Styx
and found it very plain.
Thrice more I braved its shallow wave
its gentle tide which weakly gave
and thrice more back again.

My living soul it did not drain,
nor did it cause me any pain.
It did not drag me to my grave,
as legend so depicts:

That River Styx, which quite conflicts,
is really something grand;
whose waters swell with deathly smell
to claim those specters bound for hell
with unforgiving hand.

But all I found was silt and sand,
a bare and blackened chunk of land,
more sticks, I think, than Styx.