“Crouched in a cave I saw thee and thy beard,
White against black, gleamed out, and thy gaunt hand. Mixed lizard skins, rum, parrots' tongues, and sand found where the sinking tombstone disappeared.
Sleek galli-wasps looked on thee; grimly peered
Blood-christened John Crows with a hissed demand
Who art thou? then like ghouls to a dim land
Fled for they saw thee working and they feared”.
7-7-7
