I am washed upon a rock 

I am washed upon a rock 
In an endless girding sea.
The sun is figured like a clock;
It turns and hangs at me

My heart is ticking like the sun 
A lonely cloud drifts in the sky.
I dread its indecision.
If once it blocks the light, I die.

If I could make a single wish,
A bird might hover on the wing, 
Within its beak a living fish,
And in the fish a wedding ring;

And when the ring was on my hand 
The water would go down, and shrink 
To harmless mirrors on the sand.
But to wish is first to think,

And to think is to be dumb,
And barren of a word to drop 
That to a milder shore might come 
And, years ahead, erect a crop.