Prairie Ship
I
Took a trip
Upon a ship
The sea was dry
A field of rye
No water here
To beat the ear
Or foamy mist
To glisten gist
Westerly passed
As anchored cast
With no speed lost
Steadfast we crossed
Tossed weft-waves wheeled
Curled wheat stays yield
Deep plough dry prow
Grains groan to bow
Still
I took a trip – upon a ship
The sea was dry -a field of rye