I Am Myself


The moon shines through the blue of night,
As white as some beloved face,
That’s masked with gold and fine-ground paints,
The strange one, and quite unrecognized now,
Amid newborn stars which, like coins,
Gleam with uncharted might,
And as the captain of my own dream-ship,
I see to decks manned and the wide sails furled,
Like nimble fingers of several ladies fine,
And enjoy my old table’s biscuits and wine,
That we usually share in chipped cups of thick glass,
Cozily, before the great green gusts of salt air and water,
Crash upon the wooden floor,
And throw my sailors to and fro,
As in the manly days of yore!

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