High and dry I stand above the waves
Watching them dash themselves upon the rocks.
Some small part of my soul obliquely craves
The strong sensation of such simple shocks,
But greater reason rationally blocks
Those mad desires, holding me away,
As my more temperate partition mocks
The urge to throw myself into the fray.
Yet still I fear that some oblated day
My eccentricities will overcome
The wiser part of me that tells them nay,
And I will march to an inconstant drum
Leaping and crashing like the waves I see
Upon the empty beach so desperately.
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