It Is No Bad Thing To Be

Even His Griefs Are A Joy Long After To One That Remembers All That He Wrought And Endured.

Shame Greatly Hurts Or Greatly Helps Mankind.

Urge Him With Truth To Frame His Fair Replies And Sure He Will For Wisdom Never Lies.

Even Were Sleep Is Concerned, Too Much Is A Bad Thing.

Now From His Breast Into The Eyes The Ache Of Longing Mounted, And He Wept At Last, His Dear Wife, Clear And Faithful, In His Arms, Longed For As The Sunwarmed Earth Is Longed For By A Swimmer Spent In Rough Water Where His Ship Went Down Under Poseidon's Blows, Gale Winds And Tons Of Sea. Few Men Can Keep Alive Through A Big Serf To Crawl, Clotted With Brine, On Kindly Beaches In Joy, In Joy, Knowing The Abyss Behind: And So She Too Rejoiced, Her Gaze Upon Her Husband, Her White Arms Round Him Pressed As Though Forever.