PSALM OF IMAGINED HUNGER.

If I were starving in Nantucket I would first Go down to the beach and dig for quahaugs; Or some scallops. Or drop overboard a neat little lobster car, Or row to a place where there are wild oysters; Then I would hang around the docks at five o’clock When the fishermen come in, And perhaps get an extra plaicefish Or some shark or black fish, (Though I shouldn’t like to eat horseshoe crab or squid) That failing, I would go out on the moors and snare a pheasant; I would catch a rabbit and though I wouldn’t know how to cook it, an owl. To eat crow, I have heard is not judicious—but how about marsh-hawk? If it were August I would get Irish moss out of the sea, And flavor it with cranberries. I would then go crabbing near Our Island Home; If it were July I should live in the blueberry patches And find black berries, (you know where!) And get strawberries in the old cemetery. I would go mushrooming (very prudently) in fields near Thorn Lots. I would go beach plumming (very early) on the State Road I would get in touch with grape vines near Wauwinet And with hazel nuts near ’Sconset And dig for swamp root out near Madaket. Elder berry would be a last resort! I would hang over the fences of a certain yard in Hussey Street To see if grapes and pears would come to me. Or I would interrupt tea-parties on Pleasant Street Boldly walking in and asking for apples. Of course I would weed the potato patch of anyone that asked me to For two potatoes. I would help with the melons and do what I could for corn and pumpkins; Peaches and cherries I would pluck on shares But if all these things failed I would go to a little house, Where they always know what I mean And ask for food!