 | The single hound : poems of a lifetime |  |
31
[XXIX. Down Time's quaint stream]
Down Time's quaint streamWithout an oar,
We are enforced to sail,
Our Port—a secret—
Our Perchance—a gale.
What Skipper would
Incur the risk,
What Buccaneer would ride,
Without a surety from the wind
Or schedule of the tide?
| The single hound : poems of a lifetime | |