A Sea Dirge
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- There are certain things—as, a spider, a ghost,
- The income-tax, gout, an umbrella for three—
- That I hate, but the thing that I hate the most
- Is a thing they call the Sea.
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- Pour some salt water over the floor—
- Ugly I’m sure you’ll allow it to be:
- Suppose it extended a mile or more,
- That’s very like the Sea.
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- Beat a dog till it howls outright—
- Cruel, but all very well for a spree:
- Suppose that he did so day and night,
- That would be like the Sea.
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- I had a vision of nursery-maids;
- Tens of thousands passed by me—
- All leading children with wooden spades,
- And this was by the Sea.
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- Who invented those spades of wood?
- Who was it cut them out of the tree?
- None, I think, but an idiot could—
- Or one that loved the Sea.
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- It is pleasant and dreamy, no doubt, to float
- With “thoughts as boundless, and souls as free”:
- But, suppose you are very unwell in the boat,
- How do you like the Sea?
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- There is an insect that people avoid
- (Whence is derived the verb “to flee”).
- Where have you been by it most annoyed?
- In lodgings by the Sea.
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- If you like your coffee with sand for dregs,
- A decided hint of salt in your tea,
- And a fishy taste in the very eggs—
- By all means choose the Sea.
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- And if, with these dainties to drink and eat,
- You prefer not a vestige of grass or tree,
- And a chronic state of wet in your feet,
- Then—I recommend the Sea.
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- For I have friends who dwell by the coast—
- Pleasant friends they are to me!
- It is when I am with them I wonder most
- That anyone likes the Sea.
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- They take me a walk: though tired and stiff,
- To climb the heights I madly agree;
- And, after a tumble or so from the cliff,
- They kindly suggest the Sea.
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- I try the rocks, and I think it cool
- That they laugh with such an excess of glee,
- As I heavily slip into every pool
- That skirts the cold cold Sea.
