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.