Ira Gershwin, 'A Foggy Day'
If I was away from home these swamps and karat swales
Would seem sweet.
I'd fall to the smallest shallows, kissing them--these bowels,
These furious fanning rainy folds.
Gold for gold--
Inspired, if not informed by the abnormalities of wisdom
I would fall--and meet.
Here my eyes may go on, greenly on, rove--then rove.
See the whispers of sand so rarely sold,
Head from salt-scraped hand it's easily known
The same--in sum, is as easily borrowed.