thank you poem

sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
there's one that i once loved so much
it was a tall young oysterman
of sun nor stars
there are three ways in which men take
there is an hour of peaceful rest
within my hand i hold
very well, you liberals
the poets tell
the pale day drowses on the western steep
i stand in the cold gray weather
why do
i love the old melodious lays