Down stream
There are days... Down Time’s quaint stream Without an oar We are enforced to sail Our Port—a secret— Our Perchance—a gale. What Skipper would Incur the risk What Buccaneer would ride Without a surety from the wind Or schedule of the tide?Emily Dickinson (1830–'86).
Complete Poems - 1924
Part Five: The Single Hound XXIX