The sea is wet (I meanóat least, it isnít very dry),
and rather watery compared, I think, to, say, the sky.
The sky itself is wide and blueóas blue as blue can be.
However, I donít think Iíd say itís bluer than the sea.
But bluer sea or sky (which one, I do not really know),
they both out-blue the land: itís green with grass, or white
The grass is very grassy, and the snow is very cold.
Itís true, without a doubt, that earth is earthy, big, and old.
These things in almost every way are just the way they are.
And if they arenítówell, you must admit they arenít far.
In fact, if snow were grassy, or the oceans soft and dry,
I doubt that we would call the earth the earth, the sky, the
A thing can only be itself if it is just the same
as everything that makes it it (except maybe its name),
and if it isnít? . . . Well, it only has itself to blame.
If you have any comments on this poem, Daniel Galef
would be pleased to hear from you.