The text...

Sonnet 1

My hopes drown on the bottom of the bay.
Brooding, I lie alone on a stark shore.
Beaten down by the predictable fray,
Prostrated I will never see you more.
I blame myself for my poor judgement: how
I dismissed any bad weather report;
The ill-starred forecastle of your port bow;
Your inability to find a port.
But still the white-foam-spraying dreams remain,
Sweating a sad tormented yearning girl.
Admitting that I may be quite insane
Again I search the oyster for the pearl.
No longer Grafenberg the place will be -
The letter will forever stand for thee.

The first pronounciation listed for forecastle sounds like "foke-sul" and the word is also sometimes spelled, bizarrely "fo'c'sle", which, in my head, rhymes with "popsicle." Clearly it's some salty sailor-type lingo.

However, the dictionary also lists "fawr-castle" as a correct pronounciation, which is lucky because I need it to have three syllables.