 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
LXVII
His warm Hondurian seas are warm,Warm to the heart, warm all the time;
Huge sea-beasts wallow in their slime
And slide, claw foot and serpent form,
Slow down the bank, and bellow deep
And pitiful, as if it were
A very pain to even stir,
So close akin to death they keep.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |