A few crowds are squeezed on diminishing islets Of hill-tops. Men are rowing in circles aimlessly, crazed, Where they ploughed straight furrows or steered wagons. One pitches a sail over corn. Another steers his keel Over his own chimney. One catches a fish in the top of an elm.
Anchors drag over grazing Or get a grip under vine roots.
Where lean goats craned for brown tufts Fat seals gambol over and under each other. The Nereids roam astounded Through submerged gardens, Swim in silent wonder into kitchens, Touch the eyes of marble busts that gaze Down long halls, under the wavering light. Dolphins churn through copses. Hunting their prey into oak trees, they shake out acorns That sink slowly. Wolves manage awhile, Resting their heads on drowned and floating sheep.