"The man in the wilderness, he asked me

How many strawberries grew in the sea:

I answered him, as I thought good,

As many red herrings as grew in the wood."

Of the face of the world they have found

it out

By what they must fetch and do;

Of the heart of the world they dispute and

doubt,

And yet it is just as true.

Your fish is wholesome, and live, and clean,

And my little fruit is fair;

Though the earth's good Maker might never

mean

That both should be everywhere.

And all for the want of a thought like this,

It comes, and it can but be,

That many a soul 's in the wilderness,

And many adrift at sea.