Now all your ships have sailed into the past,
Your warehouses have yielded up their grain,
Your sea-chest packed and stowed, you turn at last
To embark upon new enterprise again.
And soon, when all your swarms are gathered up
And hived in dappled glades between your trees,
You sling a hammock, muse awhile, and sup,
After the brine, the nectar from your bees.
(1994)
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