At the Riverside

The flow between the shaggy sides is slow and sweet
As many have known who have ventured therein
And many small things swim in it
Where Lupe feasts before she is taken in turn
And I incline to linger here
Where I went in such days of my youth as I ever had
And which are now gone away
As I wonder if I soon will be
But there are other rivers in which to play
Other waters into which I can sink–
And I do sink
No preservation sufficing for my life
But I can stand to die a little
Now and again
Perhaps I will enjoy their waters more
But I should not scruple to taste them at least once

What did you think I meant?
Image is William Farr’s on Wikipedia, used under a CC BY-SA 4.0 license for commentary.

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