O'er seas that have no beaches
To end their waves upon,
I floated with twelve peaches,
A sofa and a swan.
The blunt waves crashed above us
The sharp waves burst around,
There was no one to love us,
No hope of being found --
Where, on the notched horizon
So endlessly a-drip,
I saw all of a sudden
No sign of any ship.
Mervyn Peake, 'A Book of Nonsense' (1972).
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