Let women long for dainty things, Expecting twins -- content am I: I want no more, no more than the sea Wants water, that was never dry. The ale was strong, and I had three, Three glasses only, on my soul! I @3could@1 have walked home straight, but still Preferred a proud, Atlantic roll. 'Those stars in Heaven are frisking lambs, Not flocks of steady sheep,' I think; 'Poets who call them flocks of sheep, Are fools, or either lie or drink.' As I said this, the earth broke up, And danced in parts, like living things; Till, falling on their backs, I twirled Around and around, in countless rings. The worm may turn, it matters not, It helps the bird, and nothing more: I turned and turned, but still those parts Danced faster than they did before. Till, rolled and rocked to sleep at last, I lost, it seems, my senses nine: The sun stood still, in Joshua's day, But how the earth has danced, in mine! |