A second flood
Retraced the first,
By the third,
I ran for miles,
A shepherdess of zebras,
Zebras in a herding pen,
Stranded on an islet formed
By shore-floods pummeling.
You aimed a fledgeling flintlock,
A padlock by the bullet flouting;
You tamed the angles: direct shot!
And the terrible herd redoubted.
That zeal of equine, dark stampede,
Snorting snouts the swell I feared,
Before their loss where lobsters breed;
Into fury, disappeared.
Perilous storm-force seizing Lundy,
The foals and younger surely drown;
While elders by the waves outrunning,
Horses white held zebras down.
Yet you were calm beside me,
Discerning augur of the end;
The first, then all, burst through the water,
To where a winding river bends.
Dragonboat fresh soul,
Orange lanterns float skywards;
Old joys, lake-buried.
Our secular Cnut,
The Water Secretary
Sprouts floods and targets.
Crow throat calling me,
Bird from the Hesperides;
Wolves brought you to me.
There will be no need