Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
In the Harbor — Mad River
(1882)
“ Men call me Mad, and well they may, When, full of rage and trouble, I burst my banks of sand and clay, And sweep their wooden bridge away, Like withered reeds or stubble.Now go and write thy little rhyme, As of thine own creating. Thou seest the day is past its prime; I can no longer waste my time; The mills are tired of waiting. ”
