All water vessels have rivering heartsYearning to spin away the dreary partsOf the unfurnishment of frost-stript treesWith gurgled legends, wild laughing stories Of a cardamom plunging into blueDepths with whooping glee, and the old clove, trueTo form, beginning to wail and lament'She drowneth'; but it is only her spent Laughter bubbling on the rippling water.She rises with the sun, river-daughterOf tilted goblets drained by linen-thirstChoking quests for a sea to drown in first