"Attend, my dear old friend" I said to him; This grumbling, wistful man so stained with ink, "Your scornful view on things is far too grim; The ship you are on board is bound to sink." He raised his almond eyes and looked at me; Such vast and bitter pools of smothered sparks, "You know quite well how I detest the sea." Forever one to spout his snide remarks, He sighed at last, a deep and tortured sound, "Indeed today might be my very last; If so; should I not stand and hold my ground? The line is sadly none but mine to cast." That day he died, my friend the clerk; Upon his face, the same old smirk.