I viewed in my presence
  My hand on my forehead
  And sighting the liners
  Of mad merchant seamen
  In search of the living
  Or the spices of China
    Lucy walked gently
  Between the damp barrels
  And shut out my eyes
  With the width of her fingers
  Said she'd guessed the number
  Of bales in the back room
    While the seagulls were screaming
  Lucy was eating
  Then we hauled up our colors
  The way the mother had told us
  And together we just watched the sails
    Lucy I said
  In a passage of cotton kegs
  Can we hold hands
  I'm sure that it's warmer
  Then the gulls ate the crumbs
  Of Lucy's sandwich