Has thou a Spirit of the sea Has thou the best of all canst see What art of you What cries such sigh Hast thou the tides of draught or breeze? Hast thou only the moon for relief?
Let me be plain, for I am not here to disdain Simple curiosity, abounding wonder The glory of His creation - cast glory asunder For whenst waiting on death row, I must concurrently, go
To street & pebble, in-dyed with trace of race’s end, for which I cannot bely In danger i be to mix up with THY.