Berryman’s Sonnets [ 25 ] Sometimes the night echoes to prideless wailing Low as I hunch home late and fever-tired, Near you not, nearing the sharer I desired, Toward whom till now I sailed back; but that sailing Yaws, from the cabin orders like a failing Dribble, the stores disordered and then fired Skid wild, the men are glaring, the mate has wired Hopeless: locked in, and humming, the Captain’s nailing A false log to the lurching table. Lies And passion sing in the cabin on the voyage home, The burgee should fly Jolly Roger: wind Madness like the tackle of a crane (outcries Ascend) around to heave him from the foam Irresponsible, since all the stars rain blind.
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