three in the afternoon
But a sonnet is a mere pill-box ; it holds nothing . A mere cockle-shell , -- and , oh , the raging sea it could not hold ! Besides being confessedly an art-form , duly licenced to lie , it was apt to be misunderstood . It could not say in plain words , `` Meet me at the pier to-morrow at three in the afternoon ; '' it could make no assignation nearer than the Isles of the Blest , `` after life 's fitful fever . '' Therefore , it seemed well to add a postscript to that effect in prose . But then , how was she to receive it ? There was nothing to be hoped from the post , and Damon 's home in Sidon was three miles from the ferry .