Amid this gloom of bricks and lime
Where life is but a pantomime,
Where London roars and church bells chime,
I think of thee.
A little boat in memory
Bobbed on the azure summer sea,
Stretched on the planking, lazily
I gazed at thee.
In my mind’s eye are meadows green
Clad in golden crepe-de-chine,
And we were there, unheard, unseen,
Just you and me.
A peaceful farm away from strife,
I said, for me the farmer’s life;
And for my farmer’s smiling wife
I picked on thee.
I saw the sun make liquid gold
Of swelling sea, the waves that rolled;
And as around blew breeze cold,
I froze for thee.
But then I woke to weal and woe,
To-morrow’s toil, to-morrow’s foe;
And quick hot words, and passion’s flow,
I thought of thee!
30. 1. 1928