Full patiently the fisherman lay rocking, rocking, rocking;
Against his boat the little waves came knocking, knocking, knocking,
The dark little waves, the blind little waves, on the sea of the eyeless night,
Till the fisherman rocked, and swayed, and rocked, into the day of sight.

Full merrily the fisherman stood singing, singing, singing;
Against his face the spears of light came pricking, tingling, stinging,
The swift little spears, the bright little spears, from the hand of the the clear-eyed day,
And the fisherman sang, and rocked, and sang the joy of his life away.

For joyously the fisherman stood working, working, working,
And piled the gleaming fish full high, nor knew the strange things lurking,
The strange little things, the fierce little things, from the heart of the heart-less sea,
Till the things reached over the fisherman's boat; and where might the fisherman be?

Full patiently the fisherman lies swaying, swaying, swaying;
Across his face the small sea things run, gliding, leaping, playing,
The small sea things, the still sea things, from the fields of the cold green sea.
Up in the light, the sun's at his height, but here must the fisherman be.