HAVING certain cares to drown,
To the sea I took them down: 
And I threw them in the wave,
That engulfed them like a grave. 

Swiftly then I plied the oar
With a light heart to the shore. 

But behind me came my foes:
Like a nine-days? corpse each rose, 

And (a ghastly sight to see!)
Clutched the boat and grinned at me! 

With a heavy heart, alack,
To the land I bore them back. 

Not in Water or in Wine
Can I drown these cares of mine. 

But some day, for good and sure,
I shall bury them secure, 

Where the soil is rich and brown,
With a stone to keep them down, 

And to let their end be known,
Have my name carved on the stone; 

So that passers-by may say,
?Here lie cares that had their day,? 

And sometimes by moonlight wan,
I may sit that stone upon? 

With a spectre?s solemn phlegm?
In my shroud, and laugh at them; 

Or?who knows, when all is said??
Maybe weep because they?re dead.