[Robert Underwood] Johnson
But as luck would have it the weather was stormy & while lying in his bunk half--sick he made rhymes to be posted in the smoking room-reflecting awful on me& Behring Sea. Thus"Snapping snarling Behring Sea,Hissing spitting as we flee-Spiteful Sea!Where thou art's no clime for me;Climbing hills that sink & fleeIn to vales that bitterness be;Treacherous Sea!Break thy fang for all of me--Shallow, foaming Behring Sea!Still our course is over thee;Full of anger, full of spite,Strong in luster, weak in mightDraped in fog both day & nightBarren Sea!Only Murres abide with thee,Had not John Muir put in his lipThou hadst not found me in the ship.Groaning on my narrow bed,Heaping curses on thy head,Wishing he were instead.On green hills my foot would beBeyond the reach of Muir and thee.Most everybody wrote this sort of dogerell except me. After I got home I07196
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Reel 10, Image 1017
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John Muir, correspondence, letters, author, writing, naturalist, California, correspondent, mail, message, post, exchange of letters, missive, notes, epistle