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.