Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June, <br />Dawdling away their wat'ry noon) <br />Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear, <br />Each secret fishy hope or fear. <br />Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond; <br />But is there anything Beyond? <br />This life cannot be All, they swear, <br />For how unpleasant, if it were! <br />One may not doubt that, somehow, Good <br />Shall come of Water and of Mud; <br />And, sure, the reverent eye must see <br />A Purpose in Liquidity. <br />We darkly know, by Faith we cry, <br />The future is not Wholly Dry. <br />Mud unto mud! -- Death eddies near -- <br />Not here the appointed End, not here! <br />But somewhere, beyond Space and Time. <br />Is wetter water, slimier slime! <br />And there (they trust) there swimmeth One <br />Who swam ere rivers were begun, <br />Immense, of fishy form and mind, <br />Squamous, omnipotent, and kind; <br />And under that Almighty Fin, <br />The littlest fish may enter in. <br />Oh! never fly conceals a hook, <br />Fish say, in the Eternal Brook, <br />But more than mundane weeds are there, <br />And mud, celestially fair; <br />Fat caterpillars drift around, <br />And Paradisal grubs are found; <br />Unfading moths, immortal flies, <br />And the worm that never dies. <br />And in that Heaven of all their wish, <br />There shall be no more land, say fish.<br /><br />Rupert Brooke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/heaven-12/
