From your frail ark of lies, I flee I know not where, like Noah’s raven. Full to the broad, unsounded sea I swim from your dishonest haven.
Alone on that unsounded deep, Poor waif, it may be I shall perish, Far from the course I thought to keep, Far from the friends I hoped to cherish. It may be that I shall sink, and yet Hear, thro’ all taunt and scornful laughter, Through all defeat and all regret, The stronger swimmers coming after.