From hopeful dreaming I awaken
and go to work at eight,
where peaceful passions lie forsaken
and God! I\'m running late.
Now any poem set to pen
warrants strict attention,
and more than lunches offer men
for rational digestion.
My boss commands that I forsake
(not \"safe for work\" nor \"fit\")
the ballads writ by William Blake
and Wordsworth\'s worth to wit.
More, no more, to sea, to sea!
I will no captain be,
but could I not convincingly...?
but God! the phone is ringing!