'Twas fighting for his Life he was --

The idly swaying Plank

It is simple, to ache in the Bone, or the Rind --

He scanned it -- staggered --

Let not my Witness hinder Them

The Harm They did -- was short -- And since

The Well upon the Brook

Only a Bee will miss it --

Write! Comrade, write!

On this woundrous sea - sailing silently -

Where the storm is o'er?

Only lest she be lonely

A full fed Rose on meals of Tint

A single Clover Plank

No circuit sage of all the course

How much the present moment means

If those I loved were lost

This was a Poet -- It is That

From the familiar species

The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,