There had been reports and rumors of something amiss on Lake Isle for some time and so, one cold and rainy day, we rowed over to take a look. There we saw a most pathetic sight. A ragged starving man, covered with bee stings and muttering of peace, lay in the muddy remains of a poorly built wattle and daub shack. His only food supplies seemed to have been honey from a beehive, by then broken and empty, and nine rows of what looked to have been beans which had been much plundered by rabbits, a warren of which inhabited the island.
Stewart McKenzie
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rtfm-12-innisfree-revisited/
