I wandered lonely as a cod
That floats on high o’er waves and krills,
When all at once I saw a god,
A giant, with golden trident-frills;
Beside the sea, beneath the swells,
Jousting whales with ringing bells.

Enormous as the ocean’s brine
Enough to pickle every way,
He stretched in never-ending line
Cucumbers all along the bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Ready for garlic to mouth entrance.

The fennel beside him danced, a-sway
Out-shining the blander dill in glee:
A burger could not but be gay,
Anticipating such pickled company:
I gazed—and drooled—but little thought
What snacks the show to me had brought:

For soft, when in my hammock I lie
In nibbly or in hangry mood,
They appear upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of loving food;
And then my gut with pleasure grows
The pickle brine at once it knows.