You cannot fold a flood
And put it in a drawer, —
Because the winds would find it out,
And tell your cedar floor.
LI.
A modest lot, a fame petite,
A brief campaign of sting and sweet
Is plenty! Is enough!
A sailor's business is the shore,
A soldier's — balls. Who asketh more
Must seek the neighboring life!
LII.
Is bliss, then, such abyss
I must not put my foot amiss
For fear I spoil my shoe?
I'd rather suit my foot
Than save my boot,
For yet to buy another pair
Is possible
At any fair.
But bliss is sold just once;
The patent lost
None buy it any more.
LIII.
EXPERIENCE.
I stepped from plank to plank
So slow and cautiously;
The stars about my head I felt,
About my feet the sea.