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Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear, Each secret fishy hope or fear. Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond; But is there anything Beyond? This life cannot be All, they swear, For how unpleasant, if it were! One may not doubt that, somehow, Good Shall come of Water and of Mud; And, sure, the reverent eye must see A Purpose in Liquidity.
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Just now the lilac is in bloom, All before my little room; And in my flower-beds, I think, Smile the carnation and the pink...
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The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss of blankets.
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But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, Is wetter water, slimier slime! And there (they trust) there swimmeth One Who swam ere rivers were begun, Immense, of fishy form and mind, Squamous, omnipotent, and kind.
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Mud unto mud!—Death eddies near— Not here the appointed End, not here!...
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