I have lived years without the sea before my soul has leaned in it so sane, before head-high beauties filled my battery older much than armor, not less mundane; When I behold at dawn to meet night's starred grace, huge foaming humbled of high romance the gliding nose with the magic stand of dance; and when I merge - this teacher for an hour that others pass untouched on shore, Neverland have I called thy merry power of unforgiving dope – though plenty feet adore in the wide world now landlocked I think without thy frame to nothingness I'll sink. . . . . . .