all the days smile warmly

that such small gust would tip the boat
of which you sail expansive streams
mightent there be a great ocean from which to conquest,
mightent you need a greater boat

nigh, for content is to travel
abroad pebbles smooth by even hands
drinking simply, fishing livleyhood.
nor would I to stray this place
and abound cross such a great unknown
Ohh too happily I'll traverse
these falling leaves and ripples
but to drift among the chirping birds till suns no longer rise