(172) A day by the beach of Dorset

        ( 172)     A day by the Beach of Dorset.

When humanity hooks me by its bait,
the sad memories of my being hood winked,
lingering as dive as a fish, me unstable,
I retreat to the surfing beaches of Dorset,
sip those just released vapors, smokes
dancing up, cream teas of Devon, sustain me,
yonder in the coarse waters of the surfing sea,
a fisherman in free play, with his fishing net,
It is not for bread and bed alone his struggle,
it is for bread and butter, a life of better,
His breathing is hooked to a tackle,
A bread of cheddar cheese,
folded in his paper roll,
what joy can you not derive?
in the cocooned casement of ship and sea,
I sail towards South west,
Sing along, sing along the see breeze,
I sail toward the southwest.