not for the gold

the one to follow is not he who knows
but the best guesser who can bear to wait
we aren't afraid to take what's on the plate
and then our leave before the early snows
we leave behind the single one who glows
and then give all the blame to urgent fate
which comes too early those who come here late
are left to sorrows and the ringing blows
that mark the time when there is no delight
except in punishing the vagrant crew
not ready yet to set departing sail
our ship's been long becalmed in southern bight
and we have got accustomed to the view
while hoping that the breeze becomes a gale