My guest! I have not led you thro'
The old footpath of swamp and sedges;
But . . mind your step . . you're coming to
Shingle and shells with sharpish edges.
Here a squash jelly-fish, and here
An old shark's head with open jaw
We hap may hit on: never fear
Scent rather rank and crooked saw.
Step forward: we shall pass them soon,
And then before you will arise
A fertile scene; a placid moon
Above, and star-besprinkled skies.
And we shall reach at last (where ends
The fields of thistles, sharp and light)
A dozen brave and honest friends,
And there wish one and all good-night.
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