Full Fathom Five
Old man, you surface seldom.
Then you come in with the tide's
coming When seas wash cold, foam- Capped: white hair, white beard, far-flung, A dragnet, rising, falling, as waves Crest and trough. Miles long Extend the radial sheaves Of your spread hair, in which wrin- kling skeins Knotted, caught, survives The old myth of
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