While bestriding the final sea
Ankles lapping maturities waters If wisdom alone comes with time
It is perhaps come too late
For though my ardour flames
It is brief like a winter sun
And too soon clouds return
And then as fast as intent doth arise
It fails and sinks broken again
And we rightly guess
Life yet wreaks a humour
To quieten these ardent winds
That would blow till we stilled
If we could but let them
