Page:Poems for the Sea.djvu/117

 INTEMPERANCE.

's a cup that maketh sadness, Though of mirth it seems the friend; To the brain it mounts in madness, And in folly hath its end.

'Neath its sway the sailor reeleth, Helpless, abject and forlorn; All his good resolves it stealeth, Every duty bids him scorn;

Gives the land-sharks power to fleece him, All his hard-earned wages keep,