You may see a star or two
within this vibrant shell,
my sun shine bright, anew,
the laughter fill a hole.
See now upon my sleeve
the glistening moondusts wane.
What means by which they cleave?
What spirit do tides feign?
I sail a sea of calm, but
waters of the deep, they say,
do not profit from the balm
of strangers on their way.
What ease might come from Him?
From trav'ler drawing close--
more friend-- along the rim
of lonely's deep repose.
