I took my wife a friar’s coat,
a most fine cloth and a rich lace,
troubled money and a kind mouth,
a ship and a captain coming from sea—
the loveliest that ever I saw—
to look after her little bitch, which was just a-whelping.
This morning too was art,
a ship for a seal.
I walked back to where
I had long thought to live:
in error, like the bull
at home on foot.
When a land is new
every man goes
as if at dinner.
Cast up
I believe no sea
besides the ship’s.
At two in the morning,
the ship not the ship
and the ending no end,
on my lost bed
I dream of having clothes
of cold water.
A bottle in a ship in a boat:
what arms and flags?
Silk clothes, a rich
noise of fiddlers.
What will be the entertainment?
Jurates of the town
and the vice-admiral.
Where to drink?
In the lost ship,
in bed in my cabin,
where I gave the bottle
a merry good night.
The land troubles me,
and I am against the sea.
I cry out at the sight of a ship,
and hear bullets go hissing overhead
in a transport of joy.
I perceive unknown letters
in familiar words.
Strange things please me.
I put great confidence in the thoughts
of a thick-skulled fool.
Ordinary business must be
not served but feared.
a field is in love with the sea
as a ship is with land
where will we make war
guided by lies
where finish the hanging
or withdraw
I discover in the timber
a ship of my own
full of night
quiet and old
I consider the rosebush cruel
and the rose frightening
as a ship in the Navy.
I am ashamed
of the timber in a book.
I think up a God
and it makes my head
into a well of ice.
we desire the broad
water belonging to ships—
bedtime rain
alone with
my model of a ship
a little moth
fear of death troubles me
till daylight
Sun on the water
shall never thirst.
An excellent cook took
the sacrament on his knees.
A captain forced to walk
ordered ships to carry horse.