Against the ebbing tide we make our way.
Beyond the low green banks the fenlands stretch
To a far horizon. Trawler, smack and ketch
Are passing for the business of the day.
There is the inlet where the immortal boys,
As white and slim as ever, splash and call.
Deserted on the other bank Blake Hall
Still contemplates contemptuously their noise.
There are the docks where the tall mastheads shine
Of mighty Helsingfors, the timber ship.
And a new craft is lying in the slip
Which presently shall be baptized with wine.
The houses gather thicker, and a girl
Waves her indifferent smiling welcome. See!
The loungers are awakened on the quay
And stand to catch the rope the sailors curl.
Now grey and swift the startled seagulls wheel.
The engine-room is silent which so long
Has shaped our lives to its monotonous song.
The fenders bump against the slowing keel.
The smoke is rising from my father's home
Across the street, and flapping in the breeze
A curtain welcomes me from off the seas,
The querulous seas, where I was wont to roam.
And there miraculously free from age
The faces of my playfellows are seen.
And all is now as it has ever been,
Or smiling destiny turns back the page.
But always ere my feet are firm upon
The natal shore, dream ship, dream river fade,
And I am burdened with the choice I made
And lonely in the land where I am gone.
