He was caught twixt gold and sugar cane
When last I glimpsed his face,
And the hat who sat upon his head
Was affixéd in its place.
Although the shore was twilit
And bemisted in the haze,
I descried a streak of indigo
That drew upon my gaze.
Hoarfrost dragged upon his cloak.
In the ice his boots sunk deep.
I could offer no sincere reply,
Save that I should weep.