24.6.26

Two Poems by Joseph Tate

“Alfoxden, now”

Wm. unable to go all the way.
The sea very black.

Triton, late,
mute at the conch.

Proteus, soon, stuck in perhaps,—
the eustatic rising. 


“Enyalion, to the last”

Not enough / Too much
in the business of your cabinet:
past-noon sleepings
& late nights
in soil more than sea.