And comes no higher than to my knees.
I step right over it—pick a flower,
Purple, it may be, called heart's ease
And go with the way of the seas.
For I am an optimist better than you:
This dream is hell, but it's all to the good:
The Ocean is water in calm or flood.
There's nothing wrecked, or wrongly wrought,
There's nothing real but Thought!