Alcoholic

I died so many times when drunk
That sober I became
Like water where a ship was sunk
That never knew its name.

Old barnacles upon my sides
Ringed round with pitch and toss
Were given me by mermaid brides,
Immaculate as moss.

Here now, with neither kin nor quest,
I am so full of sea
That whales may make of me a nest
And go to sleep in me.

(Those angels of the upper air
Who sip of the divine
May find a haven holier
But less goodbye than mine.)

1929