  So now my Thames is fairly on the turn And plain it is the sum of water seeks That ocean which the flood so late did spurn With long reluctance in the little creeks; Now the great barges tethered to their buoys (Their gulls still seated in deliberate loads) Swing round majestical and, with no noise, Face the hid sea beyond these sullen roads. Even so my soul which did so long abide With thoughts so fledged and meditative freighted Hath veered about and answered to the tide, Glad, and her faithless station abdicated;— Lord, ere this lovely ebb shall set for me, Slip thou my chain and lure me out to sea. |
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