
c r u e l
How cruel is the sea
To a watered-down bee
That writhes with its
numerous legs!
How wild and cold
Is the drunken-sweet taste
That she left on the lip
of the bottle!
How frightfully distant
The bright swinging beacon
That cuts through the black
and the crashing!
How cruelly she begs
For the swill and the dregs
How cracking the cry and the throttle
Oh wandering weft
Empty swell in the storm
How she holds in the tide
and the lashing.